'The misplaced Ghalib'
"मोहब्बत, चीज़ बड़ी ज़ालिम है, आज मेरी है, तो कल किसी और की सपने तो सारे काले ही है, न कोई रंग, न चमक उसकी गोर करो भाईलोग, आज यह सच मैं कहता हूं ये दुनियां ही सारी कमीनी है, न सपने है, न मोहब्बत उसकी।।" A huge applause with joyous shouts of "wah wah" followed these lines at the 'Sardar da dhaba', on the Chandigarh road, a little further away from Zirakpur towards Delhi. The audience comprised of tired truck drivers, sleepy cleaners, the over enthusiastic dhaba staff and simple nomadic travellers like Abi who were all waiting for their steaming hot parathas with extra makkan and their choice of the delicious punjabi gravy, 'thadka maarke'. This newly formed local 'Mirza Ghalib' was a man in his late thirties, who clearly had had one too many of his desi daaru which was clearly visible from the number of empty glass bottles abondoned at the edge of his charpai. He resembled a hippy, with his baggy green pants carelessly tucked into his bulky b...