I am College Street.
I am located in a congested, cramped and dirty place.
I am known as 'boi para'.
My neighbours, Presidency and Coffee House, make me proud.
I am cool crucible of adda and ideas.
I am known for my genuine and pleasurable
second hand collection.
Booksellers are my big supporters.
They happily chatter with you,
and also leave you alone,
if that's how you prefer it to be.
I was happily living with my poor cousins.
Then one day I left my address with you
Amphan, expecting you to come
when you are less inebriated.
as a soft breeze.
But you came fully drunk, to destroy me,
to drown me, to throw me all around.
You orphaned me,
in waterlogged street, among fallen trees.
You know I can't float, because of my weight.
You did not care for the lockdown
that gripped the town.
I can't do much, complain to whom?
I hear, some people are trying to renovate me.
I am thankful to them.
But, can the vibrancy of the old be created?
Can the heritage be built in a day?
Is it necessary for me to move with time,
as some of my neighbours have?
Is 'varnaparichay' sufficient to make me educated?