Scimmia che vende samosa in un angolo affollato di Delhi

Bhai mujhe ek photo generate karana Hai jismein Bandar samose bhejta hua Gali mein yani ki Delhi ki sadkon per ghumta huaDelhi ke Chandni Chowk ke ek kone mein, Subah ke shor aur shaam ki bheed ke beech, ek bandar roz dikhai deta tha. Na woh circus ka bandar tha, na kisi madari ka. Uske haath mein ek chhota sa plastic ka thaila hota tha — jisme garam-garam samosay hote the. Uska naam kisi ko nahi pata tha… Log use bas kehte the — “Samoson Wala Bandar.” Woh seedha khada hota, aankhon mein ajeeb si nami liye, aur logon ke saamne haath jod kar jhuk jaata. Jaise keh raha ho: “Babu ji… ek samosa le lo… Mere bacche bhookhe hain… Aaj nahi bika toh shayad raat nahi kategi…” Uski do chhoti si bandar bachchiyan paas hi footpath ke kone mein baithe rehte — ek purana gunny bag, aadha phata hua. Woh baar-baar apne baap ki taraf dekhte, jaise pooch rahe ho — “Aaj kuch khane ko milega?” Bandar roz subah Old Delhi ke ek halwai ke paas jaata. Jo samose bach jaate, halwai thode paise le leta… aur kabhi-kabhi daya karke do extra de deta. Phir shuru hoti uski din bhar ki mehnat — Rickshaw walon ke paas, College ke bachchon ke paas, Mandir ke bahar, Aur sabse zyada — Chandni Chowk ke bazaar mein. Kuch log hans kar ignore kar dete, Kuch phone nikaal kar photo lete, Par kuch log… Ruk jaate. Ek din, ek aadmi ne ek samosa kharida. Bandar ne note nahi dekha, Seedha samosa utha kar bhaagta hua apne bachchon ke paas gaya. Pehle unhe khilaya… Phir khud ek chhota sa tukda khaya. Woh bandar chori nahi karta tha, Sirf minnat karta tha. Uski aankhon mein sharm thi, Par majboori usse jhukne par majboor karti thi. Shaam ke waqt jab bazaar ki lights jalti, Aur shehar apni chamak dikhata, Wahi bandar footpath par baitha Apne bachchon ko seene se laga kar thakaan aur darr ke beech so jaata. Delhi aaj bhi daud rahi hai… Par Chandni Chowk ke ek kone mein, Ek bandar ab bhi haath jod kar khada hai — Sirf is umeed mein Ke koi insaan uski majboori samajh le