A trip to Boraki

I am an 3rd year university student doing Architecture, so we had an interesting educational trip to a village known as ‘Boraki’, in U.P., India; here is a poem dedicated to that village we visited…

Honk honk beep beep, we cross the city streets

Running through a maze of advancement

We slowly reach a new phase of enticement

Buildings merge to farmland

And concrete walkways to alluvial band


As we arrive to the village of Bodaki

A set of random hierarchy

Catching glimpses of low rise houses

Our eyes wonder like a mouse’s

Once getting down of our buses

our minds keep in the fusses

Even with the soil beneath our feet

And the naked sun’s heat

The air is fresh

So we feel refreshed


Not long after we visit a small school

And life feels not so cruel

We see the natives, the less sophisticated

And though total strangers we are not hated

We talk to the kids

And find the fun in their midst

We talk to the local

And get to know the total


Of the railways and the platforms

We hear the blaring train horns

Their only form of transport

With no hospitals or courts

No petroleum stations or

A store full of floors


Despite of all the no’s

We feel close


Yes! To the village

Which smells of fodder silage

With buffaloes and cows

Decorating the house

Their dunks and soil are what we meet

Otherwise the village seems somewhat neat


With agriculture and animal husbandry as its main

And quickly advancing lanes

We are surprised by the enthusiasm

And that’s no sarcasm

Let it be the studious girls

Or the winds changing their swirls

Each and every share their strength

In making the infrastructure length


So good for the bodakis

With the coming railway hub

They would soon need a club

But whether or not they value their traditions

Will be a question for a future with additions


So the sun warming our faces

And the wind forming the laces

The farms sing in delight

And the animals moo in sight

The houses of beams and brick

With culture laiden thick

And the open drains of the narrow street

Even with all the seasons of rain and heat

Storing in the people’s good sentiments

Fan on the 400 yrs of historical settlements


However backward they feel

whatever distress they cannot heal

Gujjars, nais or muslims

In the end they are one community

Sharing the valuable unity


So, Honk honk beep beep,

we cross the narrow streets

Full of welcoming smiles and chirps of the bird’s tweets

The railway track come and go

As we again reach the city flow


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