"Mai thehra raha zameen chalne lagi." The lyrics differed in connotations.
'Love' for some, 'escalators' for the others. Dopamine effects? Many are the definitions.
Reminiscing the aesthetics of the old; a longing that pricked.
The old telephone-rings, the clock's pendulum dings.
The old dark wooden ensemble adorned with silk.
As strong as justifying the claims of chocolate with milk.
The old records sighed, losing the battle to the SD cards.
The cassettes piled into a mountain, besides the WWF cards.
Mp3 players lost in the wild, Walkman leading it's way.
Vintage wheeled old beauty frowned, dissing the DC days.
A pit so wild, the survival of the fittest, beyblade wars cruel.
Could it outwit again? The spice of the left and the right duel.
Reaching a friend on the gram, the "telegram" i mean.
So much to say in a few words, not to be left on 'seen'.
"Your reel is not my reel, mate!", the SLR blurted its slurs.
Looking at one thousand selfies, mirrored in the blur.
The clickity clacks of the ribboned old box and the love letter posted.
Substituted by the lappy lame with silent keys studded.
Not a kid found back then, swooning over pigs and roaches.
Cat and mouse tikled the funny bone, Dinosaur and Octopus- Life coaches!
Time is racing ahead, then why are we turning back to vintage lately?
Now I understand what it means: "Mai thehra raha zameen chalne lagi"
- Nikita Pandit
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