by Parth Pandya
And the white clouds floated on land
Past the clutches of those pesky weeds
Trampling the iron mesh of tyranny
Snowy glory on a tar-filled road
Lake Bellandur flowed onto the roads
Spreading liberally, its blessings in foam
Like a Dali painting unshackled from a frame
White Christmas on a sizzling morning
What do they know of you, of Bellandur?
Calling you a lake of filth
A symbol of greed and decay
The death knell for a verdant city
Why do they only see that fire on your surface
As waylaid chemicals in a giant bog?
The stinging smoke as poison to the lungs
The clingy weeds as shackles on growth?
Ignore the accusers, avoid the guilt
Your sprawl matches that of the city
Your failures nothing but its inaction
You are but a mirror and nothing more