O my Katak of multiple bazaars and myriad streets,
Of our many secret affairs with baffling lanes and bylanes,
Of thousand little desires awoken across smelly gutters;
Some fulfilled and many more still lurking
In the alleys of our common suffering life,
Silver city of our many loves
with bee-lines at food joints of dahibara,
chaat and gupchup and bara
catering to our hunger,
you are always there at evening Khaties
to offer your unique pleasure.
We love your
pompous puja celebrations,
gaiety and jubilations,
your bands and immersions
drinks, dances and pollutions
along narrow roads in night
without causing an ounce of fright;
We love you Katak despite your noisy living
on mud-mired streets,
your mad love of Gods and Goddesses
making annual go-rounds in fleets;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem