And the smell of garam chai,
Ramu Kaka shouting ‘10 ka ek,’
And the vast crowd in chandni chowk,
Still makes me sigh.
For these handwoven intricate shawls,
The same colour as my jhumkas,
Temples and mosques,
Built in harmony,
Are memories which cease to exist,
Like rusted keys to ancient locks.
All I know are,
By the voices which go unheard,
The rebellious youth,
Spraying graffiti on the blank walls,
And my heart seems to rejoice,
As the old conservative Dilli falls.
This city of ours,
Is beginning a fresh journey,
It’s finally bidding goodbye,
To the oppressors which fill the station,
The revolution is here,
Here in Dilli,
The forgotten yet rising,
Heart of the nation.