In the winding alleys where history breathes,
And the smoke of the charcoal in silence wreathes.
A kingdom of spices, of silver and gold,
Where the secrets of recipes are centuries old.
The Haji's Biryani, a legend so rare,
With the scent of the mustard oil thick in the air.
Small grains of rice and the mutton so sweet,
The pride of the dwellers on a narrow, brick street.
Then comes the Nanna, with Morog Polao,
A taste that can make even royalty bow.
And the Kacchi of Hanif, with saffron and ghee,
A feast for the hungry, a sight you must see.
The Bakarkhani, crisp and baked in the sun,
A snack for the morning till the day is all done.
With a cup of red tea or a malai so thick,
It's the soul of the city, a traditional trick.
The Beauty Lassi to cool down the soul,
In a tall, frosted glass or a clay-molded bowl.
And the Seekh Kebabs sizzling on a fiery bed,
To be eaten with paratha as the evening is spread.
From the Shahi Jilapi to the Beauty's sweet cream,
Every bite is a memory, every taste is a dream.
It's not just a meal, but a legacy grand,
The heart of Puran Dhaka, the best in the land.