It’s difficult commuting in cities in India….people grow old traveling, negotiating, begging, abusing autowallahs……you can’t blame them….and you can’t back their excessive demands either. here’s part of a poem that happened on one sun lit day when I met a good autowallah, a good person.
Most of the time I turn away
When I see you in threes and fours,
Almost always you ask me for more………
I am a traveler,
I have to go,
Almost always you tell me no……..
So when you turn on the meter, you actually do,
I’m thrilled, my heart apace,
I kick myself now, that I do not remember your face.
Posted in: Day to day