....with the noisiest streets and rekdiwala's
A vada pav thela at every nukkad
Ek chinese corner in every gali
And bhel puri wala at every alley
Never sleeping busy streets
The hovering BEST buses at your feet
The 24/7, ticket ticket conductor
And the morning local is your instructor.
Tobacco spits flowing down the walls
Kids screaming at every chawl
With the heat there, you never ever need a shawl
The crowd that makes you trip and fall
The doodhwala bugging the world in the morning at five
Stinks of milk, the first thing you smell
Should he be killed, or should he be left alive....
Dips his hand in the big can of so-called-milk
Who claims zero water in his aluminium bilk
"Bhaiyya ek cutting chai"
He spills it more than half
"Tere ghar mein maa behen nahi hai kya"
That push on intention, didn't make you wonder why
But the cozy air there, revives every minute
The fast pacing life though doesnt let you sit
You yet want to feel all that shit
Cause thats what you've lived with, and its still lit
In your thoughts and memories
That chana chor garam, and hot kachories
The brijwasi boiling rasgulla
The gola and the aamlete, all that hulla gulla
"Madam, boot polish", Ive worn sandals dude !
That kid asks me everyday, thats his prelude
Before my train starts its journey
From Andheri to that road, Churni
The fish smelling compartment
With the fish stinking ladies
Occupying the entire entrance
Now it feels like deodrant, uhh maybe men's.
Yeah my friend yeah
its a pretty little city
Our pretty little city
Always will be ours...dont even wonder why
That's precisely why we call it, "Aamchi" Mumbai.
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