A stop start stroll down a New York street market on a Sunday morning, broken by moments of furious tap dancing. He weaves between stalls; he's not here to buy, he's here because he's alive and he could be anywhere, but has chosen to be here. The whole day lies ahead, it's two hours till noon. There are people of all colours here, but they don't notice that here. He skates between them, shirt and hair trailing behind him, arms raised, reaching to the sky. This is a man who worships the sky and all it stands for. Others notice him. How could they not? They smile, watching him all the while; whatever he has, he's passed it to them, and there's now a slight spring in tired steps.
What is he singing about? Love? Realisation? A new journey? Everything. Everything that anybody could ever sing about. Life starts now, with this thought, this revelation, this realisation.
And that's what Roobaroo on Rang De Basanti feels like.