I have come here as a traveller
May be the bits of paper may shatter my resolve
I may become a slave to the senses
So many things to consume in this land
So less time I have got
Where can I find the right oppurtunity
to exist on my own
My mind gets diverted with the various sites I see
Not a poor beggar in sight
No one is troubled here
I wonder how many people get lucky..
The place I come from has got everything divine
Saints and beggars roam through the roads
A religious experience on every lane
There is so much traffic on the narrow roads
The guardians of God the cows are given prefernce to walk on
holy streets
The divinity in confusion and over abundance of emotion exists
A cold shoulder to life is a rare occasion
As a tourist I find it amazing to be in land of oppurtunity
But when the call of the soil comes pulling through
the over secured ways
I may turn back to find the route back to my motherland
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