The metro city I live in is a concrete jungle
Skyscrapers and huge buildings are its trees
Concrete flyovers, blacktop roads are pathways
Revving trucks and cars with the whirring sirens
Are omnipresent carnivores – tigers and hyenas
And bikers and barefoot as deers and antelopes.
The concrete jungle lives and flourishes
Everything else is turning dirty and dark
No more green trees, no natural grass
Men only walk on the rugged concrete
No more lovely birds soar in the sky
Only loud aeroplanes to deafen our ears
And to rock human homes and thoughts.
But a few green patches left in the city
Still leave some hope for the humanity
At a stone’s throw away distance from our place
Is ‘The Ridge’, ridge area as many of us call it
Or mankind’s ingenuity and sanity, if we call it.
In the concrete jungle to have some peace
The Ridge area offers me a lot of solace
Just a minute’s walk, to be in tune with nature
What a lovely sight, the canopy of trees offer
A shelter and home for so many soaring chirpy birds
A flock of parrots, partridges, cuckoos and pigeons.
Who can forget mention of passerine species
Perched upon the old banyan and peepal trees
Nightingales sing without pause sweet melodies
And peacocks dance, their plumes outspread
With their bright feathers of azure and emerald
A beautiful sight in morning, evening and rains
Of the Indian classical and western pelvic gyrations
Natives! Even Shakira and Beyonce will be envious.
So refreshing and rejuvenating are those moments
I walk often to the Ridge to escape concrete jungle.
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