Monday, 15 August 2016

I see you every morning
Waving at the school bus that speeds past you
Looking up from the little heap of sand
You are to burden yourself with
You wave
Everyday you wave at them who live your dreams.
I remember you
From my late night walk
Your eyes clinging on to the kulfi I held
From the truck that carried you into darkness
Your eyes still haunt me
The kulfi tasted a little less sweet that day
A little bitter
Yet I did knew well, the bitterness would die, soon
Sigh! What am I.
And from nowhere we meet
I feel your little fingers pulling down my sleeves
In words I do not fathom
You ask
Your eyes plead.
Akka, I shiver in the familiarity of the word
Kneeling down you touch my feet
As I fumble for words
Do not, I say
Get up, I plead
And as we part ways
You, with the tiny pack of cookies with the last 3 left
Wondering if Amma would let you have it
Already looks out for somebody next
And I think of a 3 year old in a parallel world
Whose childhood spills over my phone gallery
Whose fingers hold crayons and toffees
And walk away not daring to look back at you
Making up verses about you.
An empty verse that ends saying
How skin that spread over my feet you touched, now,
Burn a little.
Burn, it did.

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