In the rain I find me.
Under an umbrella, forgotten my family.
Eating hot pakoras and drinking tea.
Oh! My God, what my wife will say, if she sees me.
How much out of my mind,
Wanted to enjoy the rain.
If the God wishes, can anybody refrain?
I know you have school, college and office.
But the man makes pakoras very nice.
I feel that I have gone back, twenty-five years of life.
I was young and cut the vegetables with my knife.
Least I took an autorickshaw,
Used to walk miles.
Now my dropping shoulder, cries for that noise,
Till my tea and pakora is there,
And pull from my family,
Made me buy two extra packets of pakoras for their tea.