Hopes.

When my parents are old, 

I'd love to show them flying cars in our country. 

I'd love to show them that the man who washes cars 

Also owns one. I saw an ad the other day 

Of a girl cross-dressing to go to school. 

I hope that it turns into a choice, 

Not the necessity that it is for some. 

I hope there are lesser people 

With their hands outstretched at street lights, streaming eyes 

And more of those who are able to give. 

I hope we wear our identities proudly on our chests, 

But not so proudly to be haughty to those who carry badges of different colours. 

Or those, who worship different gods. 

I hope that all the little children of my country run amok in the streets 

And jump over pebbles to go to school, 

And don't wipe the dirty dishes in a grubby restaurant. 

Or someone's house. 

I hope women don't have to think twice before leaving the house at midnight, 

Or when they raise their voice against the pay gap. 

I hope there are more ears than voices, 

And that no voice is unfairly silenced. 

I hope that cows dying of plastic consumption 

Isn't as common as it is today. 

I hope, in 2047, we can finally emerge to be the India our freedom fighters envisioned us to be.