Busy, colourful, chaotic.
Jumbled up thoughts, unruly traffic and innumerable vendors.
I try to find my way in between the crowds, cows and crows.
Naked wires, stuffy booths and loud cries.
Nothing has changed on the Indian streets.
It adds to the flavour of my country.
It is on these streets that I played.
I miss the chaos.
As I boarded the plane to stay in an alien land I realised I am leaving behind these streets.
My new home is rich but I miss the modest warmth.
The ‘nai’ (hairdresser) sitting under a tree.
A cycle workshop in the corner of the road.
The stray dog in the middle of the lane.
Today, I miss the streets of India, where I grew up, played…
All these scenes were part of my growing up.
I took the Indian streets for granted.
Today, I miss them as I walk on the metropolitan polished streets of a foreign land.
Keep blowing the Trumpet! This & many more stories await in the pages!
