Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
When I see today's kids,
They are fully grown and in their early twenties.
But to me they are kids, because I am an ancient piece.
Almost an epic written in Greek, which I prey they don't waste time,
Reading or browsing ever in their wild belief.
I see the, walking, talking, jiving, loving.
All with wires to their ears crawling.
Wires snaking into their pockets,
Through their chests or young swollen breasts.
Carrying bits, bytes, nights and days of information,
Perhaps titilation, but I am convinced there is a process of filtration.
They are a new kind, come from the ancient rotten roots that are mine.
When ever I see them, my heart swells with pride,
I see my India moving, into a new twilight.
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