By Riddhi Tripathi
What inspires me the most,
Is that little kid, who holds a pencil in his hand,
To write a poem,
Trying so hard to make it rhyme.
Two little girls down the road,
Walking hand in hand,
Coming back from school,
Protecting each other, all the way through.
A man who hasn’t slept all night,
Stitching and sewing clothes,
Taking his lunch box from his wife,
Promising her, that he would be home soon.
Another woman hurrying down the lane,
Skipping houses, working continuously,
Hoping to giver her kids a better future.
My next door neighbour, who has already been on his terrace twice,
Checking ki paani ki tanki bhaari ya naahi,
An old uncle, driving his bicycle,
Consumed in the thought of his daughters marriage.
All these things force me to think,
About us and the world,
The most Indian thing about me,
Spending countless hours,
Standing in the corner of my balcony and watching everyone,
Hustle through their lives.