So have left the cab- the box that secured me
from the blazing sun and dusty roads
the box that picked the 'alive me' each day from home and
from the blazing sun and dusty roads
the box that picked the 'alive me' each day from home and
Dropped the 'left over me' back
Bus seems to have become all that is sane in my world now
City slowly waking up to the kiss of the still gentle sun
Fresh air, green, humane looking trees
Thoughts flashing in mind with each new step
Of being alive, being free, being happy, being just me
Now, each day is a mini tour
Empty roads
Flyover maze
Crop fields
Teastalls and Kachories
Flyover maze
Crop fields
Teastalls and Kachories
Sea of people...
Mothers and babies with bags, milk and water
Struggle for a seat
Men gossiping on Babas and fasts
Young football players returning home,
Students cramming from almost gray colour exam guides
Yet others hoping to find at least some job in the country,
The automatic gates of the new city bus close and open
Open and close
A tide rushes in and rushes out
Some more breaths to go on...
Earth scooped out along the quiet roads to
Erect elite housing- gulmohar garden, green bolouvard, amrapali, Judges colony....
Tall posters... divine beauties with water sprinkled backs and
Garlands of flowers around the arms,
Inviting into heavenly houses,
Showing the world 'what quality living is'
White children cycling around in the gardens
Lets forget they will be created after clearing trees
Comfort living- bookings open,
Ready possessions- 'what are you waiting for'
Under the tall posters,
Tiny tin huts of the house makers (err... construction workers)
I remember him telling me, 'keep potatoes in a pan full of water inside the tin hut,
You will have boiled potatoes to eat by the afternoon'
The month of June has just begun in Delhi, I recall
Some human like faces...
House makers washing, bathing and dressing up at
House makers washing, bathing and dressing up at
The common tap along the road,
Some looking into small hand mirror to
Ensure they parted the hair the right way
Two carpet sellers running to board the bus
One makes it just on time before the automatic gates shut
Looks at the driver's face with a pleasing stare,
To know if he would be granted a ride that morning
Driver looks back at him
Ride has been granted.
The carpet seller waves happily at his friend who
Was left behind at the station- 'e gathari, tu bhi aaja'
His friend watches the bus fade away
His friend watches the bus fade away
Bus stops at a station
Two young boys jump in
They are here to sell corns to the passengers today
On of them is quick
Perhaps he has had his lessons on
How to sell and how to survive
The other forgets to get down before the automatic doors of the low floor city bus shut,
Looks at the driver's face with a pleasing stare,
'ustad ek sekund rok do na, itta chalna paiga phir'
Perhaps he has just come from his village
to stay with his friend in the city and earn a living
Driver looks back with a cold smile at the corner of his lips,
Turns his face again to the windscreen and continues to drive..
Two flyovers pass by
Young boy still pleads in some unknown dialect
Finally a halt
Automatic doors of the low-floor city bus open,
Boy gets down and smiles at the driver,
He is happy to be alive in the city
He must walk back 2 kilometers now to meet his friend,
What if he loses the way and can never reach his friend?
Cut to--
Some one getting up from seat, to get down at station
I rush to claim the seat
I wonder,
Things appear so different after ensuring security
