The Cycle Rickshaw and the Smile

A chilly winter morning, the lazy sun & an attempt to break away from the mundane holiday schedule. This was an attempt to go to my Dad's Uncle's place, inaccessable by local motorised conveyance, 7 kms away, into the narrow streets of Old Gurgaon.


"I shiver in my loaded garb, and he in his flimsy pyjamas,
His half-shirt, semi-clad even for a sunny day; warmth,
Smiles on our faces, each in need of the other,
one for a living, one for a reason;
The destination: known, the path: known, long & murky;
Time wears 'out' the smiles, welcome to "Boredom's Inn";
5 minutes seem like an hour, relativity, They call it.

An idea, a thought of doing something new, a smile on my face,
Bhaiya,"Can we exchange places for some time?"
Rickshawalas are simple men, they do their job well,
Simple enough to let you try, experience;
He sits fretted, unconvinced, unsure, uncomfortably - behind,
clearly showing that he has never seen this ever before,
The rickshaw moves, a smile 'occurs'- one of a different kind.

A fool's attempt, something new, a mile has been left behind;
Smiles turn to laughter, the fool is unable to control the flight,
mastered them as a kid, has He, Oh! Those wonderful times;
Change is permanent, we change places, same old places;
with enthusiasms boosted, satisfaction across our faces,
The journey was an hour and five minutes experience.
Relativity!, They call it."