Where I smiled and cried

I always felt a connection to the place.

A sort of intimacy.

Like all the alleys

intersecting one another;

reaching so many different places

and also the same one.

They were confusing.

At times intimidating, even.

But there was always something

fresh about the place.

No, it didn't change it's color every other day.

Neither did new shops open every other week.

But still, the place was vibrant.

Always.

Always full of life, full of colors.

I could spend hours under the Sun

soaking the newness of the place ,

and never tire.

Each time I went there,

every inch of it allured me,

amused me, enchanted me, enlightened me.

One thing I know.

Pardon,

One thing I feel;

is that the place was a common ground.

From the riches to the poor.

From the locals to the guests.

From toddlers to grandpas and grandmas.

From devotees to lovers.

From hawkers to vendors.

From pigeons to dogs.

From pizzas to panipuri.

From cappuccino to tea.

From massive crowds to solitude.

From festivals to gigs.

A common ground. To all.

I loved the constancy amidst the difference.

There was always some change

each time I visited the place.

Except for the smile

that got plastered on my face.

But three weeks and six days ago, I cried.

I couldn't help it...

I remember the old man,

his white hat and his drawing board.

Sitting on the stairs, 

bringing beauty to the white canvas.

And now, to add more to it,

he shall wait a little,

for we will rise again.