Where do I start and what should I clear,
these broken roads have mended all of our fear.

The sleepless nights and these bustling roads.
The cars never stop, and the endless thoughts never bore.

Some came here hoping for delight.
Some of you have seen some sights,
And some want to catch the next flight.

Many of you wanted to share the floor,
Now look at you searching for a private space with a closer door.

To be or not to be was your question, I hope,
If you find the answer, will you learn to cope?

Like these chess pieces, black and white, kept on the table,
Here, everything begins with fame, every soul bears a label.

Reality may seem plain, like a bowl of Dal and rice.
As winter approaches, a sip of old Monk sounds nice.

© P.S