Mera ghar.. mera India..

Subeh Masjid se Fajr sunte hue uthte hain..

Shaam mein band, baraat, phir Mata ki chowki ki awaazen kabhi kabhi sone tak aati hain..

Galiyon mein raunak, apni bhasha, khud ki boli har jageh sunai deti hai..

Pollution, traffic, mitti, bheed logon ki aur bhi badh chuki, khushbu apne India ki phir bhi jaise aur bhi gehri har baar hojati hai..

Rang yahan khushiyon ke, gam ke, bachpan ke.. chhoti si sahi, par yaaden khatti meethi hazaro hain..

Apna wahi purana desh hote hue bhi, kahin log wahi aur rishte badle, to kahin rishte wahi aur log badal chuke hain..

Ghar magar mera jahan bhi raha ho.. madras tha, ya Ahmedabad, dilli ya ab faridabad hai…

Ma Baap ke pyar se hi basa jo, dhoop mein chhanv de, is barfili sardi mein dil garm rakhe, hum itni door usi apne ghar har mauke par apna bachpan baarbaar jeene aajate hain..