At the end of a fun filled Sunday in Bangalore

सच क्या है?
ट्रैफ़िक में गुब्बारे बेचते बच्चे
चाय पर समाजवाद और क्रान्ति
या बार में नकाबपोश लोग

सच को देखना मुश्किल है..
गुब्बारे तो दूर से हीं नज़र आते पर वो बच्चे सामने भी नहीं दीखते
समाजवाद और क्रान्ति सुनाई तो देती है पर दिखाई क्यूँ नहीं देती
नकाबपोश चेहरों में इंसान देखने की कोशिश तो नहीं करता मैं

सच शायद बचपन की कहानियाँ हैं.. जिन्हें मैं भूल चुका हूँ
कभी कभी कुछ याद तो आता है.. पर पूरा नहीं
और अधूरा सच तो नहीं होता ना!


What is truth?
The children selling balloons in traffic,
the socialism and revolution brought over tea,
or the masked faces in the bar?

It’s difficult to see the truth.
The balloons catch your eyes from a distance, but you can’t see the children at your feet.
The socialism and revolution has only been heard of, never seen.
We never try to find humans beneath masks.

Truth, may be, is the childhood story we’ve forgotten.
Sometimes something flashes by us, in bits,
but we can’t call the incomplete thing truth, can we?


Written after spending a bright Sunday and quite a lot of money in cafes and bookstores and a pub only to find out that at the end of the day the only thing I did which made me truly happy and equally sad was to buy a balloon which a small boy of around 7 or 8 was desperately trying to sell in the busy traffic of Silicon Valley of India.

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