I hear India singing varied carols,
The rickshaw-wala, singing his hymns as he horns and weaves his path through the traffic,
The diba-wala hums while walking and holding various Tiffins that are filled with finger-licking Indian food,
The chaat-wala singing his own tune while making yummy pungent Indian chaat,
The lyrical singing of the traditional Indian wife churning the Indian spices up on the terrace in the heat, the maid while sweeping the house, or the man who’s collecting trash from the roads,
The melodious lullabies from the mother putting her child to sleep beside her as she collects money from the people that pass by her on the street,
The priest singing his tune to please his lord, the peacocks dance to the melody of the air, and the cows rejoice in the harmony of it all.
I hear each one singing their songs of their lives.