Freedom

Late last night, absentmindedly 

I looked out,

as the world went past my car window.

A pause at a traffic light.

A grubby hand knocked on the glass

leaving stains on the pane.

I looked through into the distance.

The face of the unkempt child blurred

in my indifference;

the hazy shape of an infant at her hip

The car clock beeped midnight;

That hour when India began its Tryst with Destiny

75 years ago.

I looked again at the child outside

She was smiling and waving,

paper tricolours in her hand

10 rupees a piece.

I pulled down my window,

How much for all? I asked

She counted, as the baby looked inside.
(What beautiful eyes it had!)

120 rupees, she said.

I took out 200, instead.

The smile widened into a grin

And she skipped away shouting

Into the dark spaces beneath the flyover

That hulked along the road.

I placed the tricolours reverently

Next to me, on the leather-covered seat.

They will adorn our home in the morn,

amidst the marigold, jasmine and green.