Oh, Shilpee, you chaotic delight,
Where artists argue and unite.
A home for souls both lost and found,
Where creativity and nonsense abound!
Here, everyone’s welcome, come as you are,
Whether poet, actor, or lost Bollywood star.
With a cup of tea and a cig in hand,
They debate life like they’ve got it all planned.
Step inside, what do you see?
A poet, a clown, and three cups of tea.
The air is thick with smoke and lore,
And someone’s always at the door.
They speak in Nepali, swift and sweet,
“Dai, euta cigarette dinu na”,
But the moment they see me, Hindi defeat!
“Kaise ho?” , they ask, with grins so wide,
Then all start talking at once, side by side!
They finish each other’s sentences, oh so keen,
Like a chaotic, multilingual word machine.
“Arre yaar…….woh jo tha na…….usne kiya tha!
Meanwhile, I’m nodding like, “Haan… haan… haan…?
The air is thick with stories and smoke,
And laughter that turns into someone’s joke.
Musicians strum, old tales unfold,
Some are silver, some are… boldly told.
Love is here, and so is fun,
Drama onstage and also in the sun.
For Shilpee’s a place where magic is spun,
With chaos, chai, and too much pun!
So here’s to you, you beautiful scene,
Where art and madness reign supreme.
May your tea stay hot, your stories never end,And may your Hindi finally comprehend!
*THE END*
