Riding on my bike,
early in the morning,
through the streets of Pune,
And out of the city in no time.
The hills come out in the open,
with so little trees to clothe it,
We owe to these hills,
And clothe it with trees.
Now we are in the open road,
just me, bike, road and the hills.
suddenly, the wind hits us,
carresses, pushes, pulls and sways us.
Its a game, for a long time,
along the lonely road,
just me, bike, road, hills and the wind.
Playing like children in a park.
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