Creativity was indeed playing a game of hide and seek with me. After weeks of trying to jot down a successful poem, inspiration finally gave up the game. So today while I was trying to occupy enough space in the public bus with people pushing and pulling, I finally found the perfect story!
As the truck passed so did the smell of smoke
until all that was left in the air
was the smell of garbage.
The woman sitting beside,
covered her nose.
The man sitting behind
shouted out curses.
My friend standing with me
made funny faces.
But the little boy sitting on the floor
of this crowded bus broke into a smile.
We looked at him
with large eyes;
extending our shock.
He looked at us and smiled yet again
“Woh mera papa hain”.
(That is my father)
With life lost on us
and our constant wish to meddle in it
we asked him
“Jo woh truck chala rahe hain”
(the one driving that truck)
he said, showing his yellow teeth
and an innocent smile
with his finger pointing at the garbage truck.
The woman looked at him,
gave him a 10Rs note and left.
The man gave him a new pen and left.
My friend gave him a new notebook and left.
Everyone stepped off the bus
until mine and his stop was the only place left.
He looked at me,
his face portraying an unreadable expression
“Didi, yeh log muche ithne sare gifts kyun de rahe hain?”
(Sister, why are these people giving me gifts?)
I looked at him,
now realizing the expression on his face;
it was of innocence and hope.
I ruffled his hair and replied,
“Kyunki aapke papa ke wajeh se hi India saaf raheta hain”
(Its because of your father that India continues to remain clean)
The bus stopped at my stop and I stepped out
and as I looked back at that little kid,
he was smiling
with his eyes filled with pride
and I secretly prayed
“Oh please don’t let him change”.
Picture credits : http://www.flickr.com