New Delhi, India
The life of a simple man begins often with a simple plan…
He checks the clock and packs his bag, The lunch full of rest-over snacks…
He checks the time and then he waits, At the stop – the queue he hates…
The bus is full but still he goes, The driver’s smoking in the first row…
The whistle, cursing and deafening thumps; People elbowing down the chumps…
Women harassed still standing quiet, as nobody wants to pick a fight!
He’s stuck in the middle – misses his stop, Should I complain to the ill-mannered cop?
Ah! Forget it!! And then he walks, in the office the same he talks…
The talk’s forgotten the very next day, who’s to blame? Who’s to say?
The man gets up late – It’s quarter to eight, He runs to the stop – again he waits…
The same routine, the same disgust; The same old curses, the same old dust…
And there he is – the simple man, A simple life – A simple plan!
PS: Couldn't get a pic, may just post it soon!
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