History in Store

As I stepped in the city, after a long gap,
Memories suddenly woke up, from a long nap
That hand pulled rickshaw on the street,
That lonely dog’s bark completes the greet.

A puller of that cart, came to my mind,
In whose Rickshaw, I often climbed.
Always wondered in what such need,
He was working like a slave, without any greed.

The night and the silence are still familiar,
But still there is something fresh in the air.
The old buildings have given ways
The shining boards are now spreading its rays.

Amidst the long line of these yellow cabs,
Wondering how people now behave?
And yet the rickshaw, as a sign of old days,
Comforts the eyes with familiar grace.

Perhaps, now the wooden cart is a monument,
For the sake of old days that the city has spent.
Perhaps they are not pulled any more
But, yet they have a rich history in store.

(c) Amit Agarwalla