Day 036 of Our Winter:
Oh, small Bajaj, with paintwork so bright,
You cut through the humid, tropical light.
No mere roti delivery, common and plain,
But a symphony carried, to field and to lane!
That tinny old jingle, a looping delight,
It calls to the hungry, both morning and night.
From your clear glass cage, a marvelous feast,
The flaky Maalu Paan, from West to the East.
A pocket of wonder, by throttle and wheel,
Selling comfort and carbs, that only you feel.
The Choon Paan has come! The children all cheer,
Bringing the bakery to the door right here.