350 Years Madras

I had written this poem 23 years back about my wonderful hometown - Madras. Hope you enjoy it and it gives you a glimpse of my city

(I)

My grandfather told me of those bygone days,

When Madras was just a small place,

Huts scattered here and there,

A gentle serenity in the air.

Scenic green fields where the paddy grains,

Would nod their golden heads attuned to the breeze.

Then came the English who robbed Madras of her peace,

Stealing her gentle beauty and throwing people to the streets.

(II)

My father told me of that Madras which rose from the shambles,

Of her many leader who strove to maintain her serenity.

From Chitambaram Pillai who built her seaways to Annie Beasant who loved her nature,

She produced many brains like Ramanujam,

Who kept her name alight everywhere.

Her monuments & structures sent art lovers into excited raptures,

That was the Madras of my dreams.

(III)

As I look around I see the traffic moving by a never-ending stream,

The fast food restaurants, the loud clothes and the noisy discos reigning supreme,

But as I wake in the morning to the warm smell of filter coffee,

And hear the sweet notes of the suprabhatam,

I realize the blend of the old and the new,

I give a sigh of sheer content for being a part of you Madras...

And I have grown with you in spirit for 350 Years.