Poem by Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick
THE CITY I CALL MY HOME
When strangers become your own.
There you know is your home.
Getting help from others.
Neighbours becoming brothers.
When you fall someone helps you at every end.
That’s how your bruise is mend.
The skyscrapers and electric poles,
Along with brick and cement happiness doles.
When you think you cannot adjust.
You are unhappy and your mind is piling rust.
Suddenly a helping hand comes your way.
It brightens up your whole day.
When you feel tensed up with your city.
Good people dazzle up your vicinity.
That’s my Mumbai city, giving everyone a name.
A city sheltering all and giving a scope for fame.