At home! At Lucky Manzil!

In the land of bliss

where the breeze is still cool
the air not so darn polluted

the night still with just 
the staccato sound of crickets
and not shrill with mindless noise
of rude brakes and ruder honks

the view, through craned neck,

of the 'Queen of Hills'
and its gem of lights like a lop-sided crown
atop the side of the sky

where a myriad birds still drop in
to chat away the afternoon
as you tweak your ear
to listen to the tales they carry

where you boast a rose garden
in your front lawn
and trees of Mango, Litchi and Pomelo
sway in your backyard

where the time is told
by the booming sound of the Azaan
where the white cross of Christ
makes for the guiding light
in the dark of the night.

At home! At Lucky Manzil!