The moment I have set,
My foot in the big city,
I wanted to be this new person,
Making new set of memories,
I did not want people back from my place,
Recognize me for who I was,
I didn’t want my past to shadow,
I wanted a complete redo,
No that I did things I regret,
But people from there never forget,
I tried to fit in to the best of my ability,
But was always the odd one out,
The city always sniffs you out,
That makes one doubt,
Can I ever lose my village stench,
Thinking this I sat on the park bench,
There I see people enjoying the park,
I could differentiate,
Between locals and visitors,
The locals, belonged,
The visitors tried to belong,
Then I realized, the roots of my village,
Grow only stronger as I try leave it,
I am undeniably a child of my village,
And there is no rite of passage,
To change my identity,
But I can be the fruit of both,
My village roots and strong stem of the city.