A Walk To The Park

Cycles and rickshaws drove through the streets of a green Bombay,

And a lady with a baby in her hands, walked beside the vehicles on the footpath, to the park

Cycles, rickshaws and a bus drove through the streets of a quite Bombay, the green was fading.

And a little boy ran beside the vehicles on the footpath with his mother behind him, to the park

Cycles, rickshaws, buses and a few cars drove through the streets of Bombay. the green and the silence were fading.

And a group of boys were walking cheerfully, to the park.

During a rush hour,

Rickshaws, buses and cars were stuck in a jam in a busy street of Mumbai. The green and the blissfulness is now forgotten.

And among them was a man in his car with a target in his mind. He glances at the footpath beside him. Empty. But not for him.

People have moved out and moved on. Now no one asks the chai-walla for chai any more. But a man still comes and goes. Says that he has memories in that house. But people call it a zhopadpati.

So he took one last look at the house and turned to the now empty street beside the footpath.

And then he turned around and went for one last walk to the park.