Ode to the City of Nizams

It was a short acquaintance.

Hardly enough to fall in love.

Not enough to get to know

every nook and corner.

Curves and bends and moles and scars.

But the city with all its flaws,

felt like home away from home.

An unfamiliar sense of belonging.

As I depart I wish or hope,

I'd come back some day.

To stroll around the bustling streets,

To climb atop Maula Ali and watch the Sun rise over the waking city,

To dissolve into the Charminar crowd

sipping an Irani chai,

To walk along the Necklace road,

and ride a boat to the Buddha,

To marvel at the ruins of Golconda Fort...

As I try to pack the essence of the city

and numerous memories into a backpack,

I remember reading somewhere..

"You'll never be completely at home again,

because part of your heart will always be elsewhere.

That's the price you pay for the richness of loving

and knowing people in more than one place."