Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Who by fire
Who's the kid that sleeps in the ice cream van while the big shiny cars move around him like aluminum tortoises ? What does he dream of?
Who's the man in blue, sitting in a blue room, with a blue paper puncher on his table? What does he write so intently as his friend watches on?
Who's made all this delicious farsan that will end up in our homes?
Who's the man with silent determination written on his face? Where is he going?
Who are the lovely ladies and what are they contemplating? Have they given up on the dirt of the world?
Who is the little girl with so many books in her bag?
Mulgi Shikli Pragati Jhali!
Who sells all those roses that fill the morning air with their romance?
Who are those kids who live by the Tulsi Pipe Road reminding me of my own childhood?
I ask these questions every day on my way to office.
My reason for getting horribly late.
But who would not stop to look at these wonderful sights, these unfathomable portraits of India?
Who would speed their cars as if they were getting late for doomsday?
Who amongst you is so blind?