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In it, the constable, Officer Garroway recites a glum, dark poem on Streets which always, always evokes a chuckle when I read it. I have reproduced it below, for your benefit:
Grim, relentless, sordid streets!
Miles of poignant streets,
East, West, North,
And stretching starkly South;
Sad hopeless, dismal, cheerless, chilling
I pace the mournful streets
With aching heart.
I watch grey men slink past
With shifty, sidelong eyes
That gleam with murderous hate;
Lepers that prowl the streets.
Men who once were men,
Women that once were women,
Children like wizened apes,
And dogs that snarl and snap and growl and hate.
Loathsome, festering streets!
I pace the scabrous streets
And long for death.
Source: The Small Bachelor, P.G.Wodehouse, 1927
But today’s post is not about the poem, it is about this picture:
This delightful chap was standing right outside the ferry point near New York’s Liberty island. Street performers are a lively, entertaining group of people you find in the United States. They lend a certain beauty to the drab surroundings and liven up a dull day.
The very talented violinist was playing a hip-hop number before we reached him. As he looked up and spotted us, a family of six Indians, his face lit up and he said ‘Namaste!’
Prompted by curiosity, we stopped. And , as if on cue, he struck up a song. Can you guess which one?
It was Jana Gana Mana, our National Anthem! And yes, you know what that does to us. So, we stood there and waited for him to finish playing. What a beautiful, clear and absolutely flawless performance it was.
To this day, his smile and his music is ringing in my ears.
A story for every picture, a picture for every story
The picture above was clicked in New York
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