I haven’t got the wish or ink
To paint the town in red and run.
Instead, the milder pastel pink
Is what I prefer for my fun.
I like my mornings coffee brown,
And evenings acrylic blue.
And so the colour of the town
Has got to be a lighter hue.
I like the rose’s popping head;
Hibiscus, proud in portrait view.
And hence, the town cannot be red
For them to stand out as they do.
I like my fellow Indian man
Who sees a corner wanting use.
A reddish town will drown his plan
To spray his chewed up betel juice.
I like my fellow Indian bride
Who dresses up to catch the eye.
A reddish town will tend to hide
Her saree worth the price of sky.
So, now you know my reasons why
I cannot paint the town in red.
So, let me get this ink to dry
And let you pink the town instead.