niryumnam - Tumblr blog

[niryumnam]

My Feline Guide

Often on rainy days, I'm reminded of home,

a place so far in distance yet

so close in heart. 

Still I can remember more of such rainy days; 

of daring and going out with a torn umbrella 

just to buy roasted yellow peas of Rs. 5. 

And that's quite a dare! 

To relish with red tea,

nestled all we closely near the Meiphu so happily,

unmindful of our impoverished condition. 

Knowing that on the tin roofs

were perforations abundantly, 

making mama busy all day, 

to hold the drippings in buckets. 

The rhythmic pattering lulled us otherwise,

not in a cozy, soft bed with warm blankets

but in a straw mattress with frayed Haophi.

Years apart, I have come to this point now,

that often on rainy days

my wistful heart finds cheer from them

in cozy bed, with snugness so close. 

Their fur so fluffy, my sanctuary 

and by my side, their luscious faces.

My purring friends, my feline confidants/confidantes

bring exultation and placidity right by my side. 

Their happiness so pure and bright,

in gentle rain and soft gloaming,

together in this harmonious space,

life's cares vanish without a track and vestige. 

[niryumnam]

On Death

I've been thinking too much of late

about the purveyor, the mediator of 

life and afterlife.

And I weigh between my reason and faith.

While I was rummaging for an absolute answer,

I felt lost.

The failure made me distressed, resulting to complete torpidity. 

Then I cried and shuddered while 

looking at my loved ones ( humans & pets). 

Why is it so hard to accept

the existential death anxiety? 

Sometimes I try to ignore that it's coming, 

while often busy with life and 

its experiences. 

But yesterday, I felt fear.

I trembled at how everything ceases after it.

I fear nothing continues on in any sense.

I deeply fear since it is such 

an absolute elimination of the self. 

At the back of my mind, I often 

reflect on its existence, its inevitability. 

I wonder what it is,

what lies beyond it?

That it's unknown makes me so scared. 

When contemplating on it day and night

I scoff at the trivial things for what they are

and face up to the fact that 

much of what we worry

and consume ourselves with 

is not so important after all...

But, on the contrary, I found an answer

to my uncertainty, to my skepticism and

to my ultimate fear,

while I was looking at the sapphire sky

at the frolicking hummingbirds 

at the blooming bougainvillea;

while breathing in the first petrichor

and the scent of mogra;

while listening to the melody of summer koel,

to the imploring cry of kittens. 

I begin to gravitate towards them which offer 

an escape from my fear.

All awaken a greater appreciation

and gratitude for life, 

help me realise the beauty in the mundane,

learn to celebrate the small victory as

often as I celebrate the big ones, 

and accept that 'Death' is a natural process.

[niryumnam]

[niryumnam]

Shall I call you Home

When I try to color my lips

draw kajal on my eyes

place a bindi between my eyebrows,

and take a deep look inwards, 

I realise that 'This's no man's land'. 

This region's uninhabitable.

There's plague far and wide. 

There're boils left behind

Scarring every nerve and senew. 

When all the sacred mountains are tainted and fenced 

when all the houses are turned into ashes

when all the temples and idols are desecrated 

when these people's faith is challenged

I realise that 'This's no man's land'. 

When the children are starved

when the women are raped

when the men are made impotent

when the right to life is denied

when existence becomes liability

I realise that 'This's no man's land'.

What should we do now then

when our hands are cuffed 

when our legs are chained

when our wings are clipped

when our aspirations are fogged?

I realise we're like chickens in a cage

ready to be chopped off 

helpless for ourselves and our own fellows

despite knowing the charades.

Only, only to discern myself that 

'This's is no man's land'.

First, people were shouting and screaming

at the top of their lungs

but people are sobbing and mourning now

when their trusted leaders act 

like the three wise monkeys.

When they rub their pot bellies

when they pat their buttocks 

I realise that 'This's no man's land'. 

No regret, no remorse, no guilt, no fear, 

and no Karma for the perpetrators. 

Here, a man's lot is determined by his wealth. 

In this land, wealth is power.

The one who holds the magic wand, 

before him, flies and tiny insects are we. 

...Yet the children in the relief camp ask ...

What's our fault? 

Where's our future? 

Shall we endure all the injustices like this? 

When shall we have a 'home'? 

As such, should we justify in silence

that all these happen since they are born 

in a place called Manipur

in an ethnic group called Meitei? 

And I realise that 'This's no man's land'. 

15th Nov, 2023

[niryumnam]

To Darkness

That he was so blameless of his deed,

the delirium on his head

blackholed the truth into utter darkness.

The distant blaring and thud

heard from this abandoned-drenched island

had to house him as an investigator

to unearth the truth.

The inmates looked strange and hysterical

as he passed his glances into

their fettered faces.

Crouching they locked their eyes unto him

while zombied themselves under this devilry.

He was here to exhume the truth or

die like them in search of the killer

of his beloved wife and daughter.

He furtively glimpsed outside,

the somber-lashing rain beyond the window reminisced his days of yore

with his wife and daughter…

.

He saw and was confused of a woman

stood dripping near the door.

While at the back of his mind was playing

a familiar-suspenseful music accompanied

with intermittent lightning

augmenting superfluous strangeness and prescient warning!

The image of whirling smoke up and up

Led his delusional mind to the

muffled scream of that woman who seemed humming under the swing holding his cold-dead daughter

Turned out to be his wife.

The flashes of creaking swing near the backyard pond

Of dead bodies lying cyanosed

Crossed his hallucinatory mind

Letting all slipped through his fingers and evanesced.

Then a distorted image surged like bolt

Migrained him for the moment.

…He tried hard to open his eyes,

To aim his pistol and shoot at the image.

That all happened inside his head throughout

he was absolute unaware.

When the image didn’t die repeatedly

With his bullets,

the lunatic head reloaded the gun

and again missed the target.

Sensing something was wrong, he ejaculated his entombed-unsated cry.

The flashback returned…

Of the past killing many unknown, unnumbered in inebriated state.

In fact a war veteran of many medals

Who lost his sanity to nervous breakdown.

Who was delusional of the reality-

The “truth” that he killed his own.

Now the sweaty-feverish intellect seemingly accepted the ultimate truth.

But never was his mind enlightened when

He feebly mumbled, “I’ve yet to hunt the killer.”

25th April, 2023,Vadodara

[niryumnam]

The Imbicile

I have witnessed the dark side of this underworld

Its hideous masks worn by sinister man

Sporting and preying on everyone's flesh

Trying hard to scratch and mark wounds here and there

Creating his territory like dogs and cats

Showing his mights in his so called petite kingdom

As cocoon inside a jackfruit feigning pseudo-king

Like komodo dragon flicking out his glued tongue

And slurping down his preys as if to attain foodgasm.

Everywhere he goes, his disciples will swarm like bees

Kowtow and greet Salaam!

One will polish his boot and one will fan his sweats

The other will comb his hair and spray perfume

Infact, all line up in queue

Waiting for their assigned tasks.

They love to worship him as God himslef.

Wah, what an analogy!

What an awestruck vista!

Perhaps, this is meant to be

Here right under this hell of Beelzebub

Everybody's both old and young

Hiding behind the raging flames

Felt the scorching heat yet failed to extinguish the fire.

Maybe Tagore's 'Where the mind is without fear' is lost in translation.

Nevertheless, sure, a few will search the flickering light in the dark

And rise like a Phoenix from the ember.

Time is out of joint yet

it's but time which will show to us-

Every dog has its day!

And there, there itself, i really wanted to say aloud-

"What you're putting up, Mr., is all blatant."

14th Oct, 2022, Baroda

[niryumnam]

Lottery Ticket

I

Prologue

It's certain he is gone this winter.

Winter, inspite of its frigid demeanor,

is always wizardly.

It's in this winter,

the early augury of snow is welcomed,

the various festivals have arrived in ceremonial attire and paraphernalia,

the scrumptious meals are relished

basking under the warm sunlight.

And most significantly, the vacation after exam.

Winter, it's unusual this time.

No more magic, no more thrill.

The deadliest winter ever experienced.

A sinister winter as it always is.

As Athoiba lies in his bed.

All over his pallid face, the pungent tears start gushing down.

The fever is high, the body dead cold.

The throat is parched, the tiny lips desiccated.

Ashangbi's first born son seems moribund.

Not a single cent to fetch a doctor,

she is sitting in utter void near her dying son.

II

The harder she contemplates, the silence sweeps her heart.

The small eyes are wide set in a fixed glassy stare.

It surely reeks a message _

The sin of ignorance, the blunder of innocence and many whys.

III

" I buy for my shoe, ma."

"I... for my family, for you."

"I don't do anything wrong, ma."

Athoiba's incoherent words make sense to her.

She incriminates herself of her son's doom.

She breaks her silence eventually.

IV

Ashangbi but 18 then eloped with Tomba.

The culprit behind her deplorable life and her son's predicament was her blind love and faith.

Whatever he promised before marriage turns out to be all shams.

Gambling, stealing and drinking have become his persona,

that deliberately forces her into selling herbs and vegetables on the roadside in order

not to stop the fire in the hearth.

V

Athoiba's school uniform looks clumsy to him too, he can feel it.

But it is the best outfit he has ever worn

therefore, adores the most.

A torn shirt, a worn out half pant, a short tie and a raddled slipper.

A dream to have a pair of shoes with nice socks remains unfulfilled.

VI

It is during Yaoshang festival, he collects some money from Nakatheng.

He and his best chum, Angou go for singju, pafor, boiled egg and sunflower seeds.

And lo! The epiphany is awoke.

Angou, always mischievous, drags him to buy a lottery ticket.

"We should buy a lottery ticket. It's only five rupee."

"You can buy your shoes and help your ma."

"Really, can I?"

"Yes, ofcourse. C'on let's buy a ticket."

VII

That night Athoiba's eyes refuse to shut. Carefully he keeps the ticket inside his pocket as he is pleasantly lost in his own daydream.

VIII

"What are you blabbering, Ibungo?"

"Yes, ma, I'm saying the truth. You know what, today I bought a lottery ticket."

"What? A lottery ticket! Who told you to buy it? Tell me."

Ashangbi starts screaming loudly.

For the first time, she raises her voice.

"You scoundrel, I thought you are different.

I know you will also become like him. No doubt you are his son."

Saying this Ashangbi starts beating her son incessantly till the boy faints.

IX

Epilogue

Everything has changed!

The winter is approaching swiftly.

The exam too is going to end and

the vacation is inevitable.

Winter's fast pace is immutable though

as the Nature happily cycles its birth and death.

Winter comes, never ceases bragging its multifarious hues.

Athouba joins Nature's natural course contributing his body to the coldness of the merciless season.

30th July, Vadodara

[niryumnam]

To Monsoon

Like all other living entity

Here i am too in this alien land

Waiting incessantly for a drop of rain

To assuage the parched body and mind

To allay the thirst of the scorched soil.

Waiting inside this comfortable canopy

cuddling under this concrete flat

drenching its warmth and snugness,

I see a world full of life frolicking outside my wide window

And ofcourse no sense of worry!

While the amnesiac rain doesn't stop pouring on the grasses, trees, roofs and walls

Lunatic in my head starts dissenting about it

And I ask myself what's worrying me

on this particular magical rainy day instead of rejoicing?

In the deep chamber of my box, i had deep hidden the key.

Not that i distaste it but rather elicits an ambiguous scary feeling to play freely.

A vast cosmos of not so fond memories of rainy days!

Yet rather caustic, graphic and bittersweet at the same time!

Often on these rainy days,

I am reminded of the things past, of home and loved ones.

The contrary and the paradigm shift of situations conjured up by this very rain-

The burden of being alive in those rainy days and nights!

I remember how I hid my head under the plastic sheet laid above the mosquito net

to avoid the harsh rain burst inside the thatched roof.

While the rain was busy wrestling with the mud floor

churning and turning it into slimy and uninhabitable place,

I remember eating many a time my meal on the bed,

under the plastic canopy with a sense of worry in case

the water collected above would break from the grip.

Rainy nights though lulled others to a deep sleep

Made my heart heavy the whole night for the immediate morning.

I remember how my mother's whole day was exhausted

draining, cleaning and mopping the mucky floor.

Indeed, quite a task no one would ever know and appreciate.

She would burn the floor with straws to soak up the moisture.

For the night to be ready again for her child.

The ever life giving force rain wouldn't mind lashing out its collosal power one after another

Turning blind eyes to the efforts of the mother.

As the dawn broke and the weary eyes ceased to close,

a bleak day awaited me with impatience.

And I didn't know how I would go to school without an umbrella, without a cardigan

along with the torn rubber shoes

on the overflowed lenghty roads.

This, I prefer not to recall to my mind

how till knees dipped, I reached school

and sat the whole day inside the classroom with wet soaks

turning into whitish pale my feet.

While I returned home on the way

I splashed the flowing water around me with my torn rubber shoes

and yelled till my heart ached-

"Rain, rain, go away come again another day."

O Rain! You Benign and Malign!

Creator and Destroyer!

How will my heart welcome you unhesitatingly?

14th July, 2022, Vadodara

[niryumnam]

THE ACCEPTANCE

At last she pleats her strength.

She can no longer wait for God’s hands to foray.

At all is needed has to be done by her alone.

She knows this will be her lot.

Neither can she destroy herself nor the child.

But one truth, she cannot snub –

“What’s the baby’s fault?”

The man’s senses smelled on her blooming body.

She knew he was perceiving her surreptitiously.

She could feel his ravenous-predatory-eyes.

If certain, anytime wolfs his prey in no time.

Time passed by……

As if he had been waiting for this thing.

He didn’t want to slip this break.

He knew this could be his last chance.

So, he mustered up his strength to lure the tender deer,

Who just started exploring the world!

Her house stood alone outlying from the village.

Whatsoever happened remained mysterious, submerged into oubliette.

She was ensnared in the clutches of a monster.

“This is it, this is what I’ve been waiting for all my life.”

Next minute, the hut was filled with noise,

Gradually weakened into muffled sound.

How countless times she screeched and screamed,

Nobody heard but the man.

Her unresponsive body lay flat tranquil,

While the man pulled himself and left the hut composedly.

Days and months gone…

She was no longer that girl.

Someday, she decided to go to the upstream river and,

Cease what was started nine months ago.

She clenched the child about to hurl to the raging river,

When the child looked into her eyes and smiled!

“Is it the child’s fault, she asked?”

And holding the child skintight, she cried-

“Oh, My baby!”

Vadodara, 26th July, 2021

[niryumnam]

LABYRINTH

Afterwards it all became a mirage

while I was trying to recollect a fond memory.

It was a surge - sudden, and vivid

when I saw a small girl helped her father plant cauliflowers.

The memory lingered in my mind long after the feeling left.

An untouchable, undelivered, unsurmountable memory!

The memory brings back memory of my mother

who used to toil and sow various seeds in our not so large garden.

While I too was busy mulching the soil and playing with the jelly-eggs of earthworms,

mother's distant thumping on the soil was heard.

First, the sound was loud and the vistas was quite lucid.

Then, I saw my mother's hard-sweats perspiring on the temples gliding uneasily on the cheeks,

then reaching the edges of her lips.

The tart sweats assured her that her children wouldn't die of hunger atleast this time.

And that afternoon, the thumping sound retreated in mind faintly.

Again, the memory makes me remember another fondest memory -

planting shallots, peas, beans, chillies, chives, mustards, hibiscus, cabbage, u-morok and

ofcourse cauliflower

under the shiny sky and the warm days together with my mother.

She was always there with her headdress

ploughing, ploughing, and ploughing.

Suddenly a smile sparks on my face

when I remember how innocent and dumb I was!

I was then young and naive too

when I tried to touch a snake that passed our raised bed of soil.

Surely, it might aslo be a little fellow who was also young and naive like me.

It didn't hiss or bite but glided unfazed.

I don't know how to discard this stream of memories, I really don't know.

How the memory of the fragrance of

my mother's simple boiled curry of

fresh vegetables plucked from the garden with ngari

used to haunt me long after her death.

As if the non-existence of this curry

from the house made her death more real than anything else about her.

Long after she left, the child somewhere in a remote land

stirs the forlorn memory of her in my labyrinthine mind.

Yonder there how she stood and tilled the soil

spreading the scent of her sweat-laden soil gyre and gyre before my eyes.

Memory is a guileful thing.

It doesn't just recall and make the past.

But makes the reality even trickier!

13th June, 2022.

[niryumnam]

O, Shakespeare!

Shall I invoke thee,

The Bard of Avon?

To resurrect from the cold den

For a mouthful of nectar

To be poured upon us

As now the time is out of joint

Basic instincts dry up

The sanes turn machines

Act like a robotic-puppet

No time to sit and ruminate

Of what went drastic

Of what modernization offers

On the wake of dawn.

Yes, I see a vision of approaching Apocalypse

The sure Holocaust

At this juncture, I take refuge on thee

On thy profound utterances

To solace my angst

To humanize me once again

To save this civilization

And I shall hymn thy name

O, Shakespeare!

"You are not of ages, but of ages."

First Prize, Shakespeare Week, Pondicherry University, 2014.

[niryumnam]

When You are Gone Too Soon (In Loving Memory of Thambal)

It's already morning.

I could hear the meowing and the jingling from my bed.

She would be waiting for me to open the door

As the door opened, she would be running around the house bragging her fluffy tail.

No more coaxing rubs around my legs

No more pleading cry for treats

No more scratching on the couch

No more gentle purring

No more kneading and no more cuddling around my arms.

That favourite chair of yours is empty now

Where you lie and sleep.

Now, who will say it's time for feeding?

I have put away your bowl and all the things you won't be needing.

When your gilded eyes no longer shine

And we both acknowledge that it's time to go

Don't look at me with fixed eyes so pensive

Instead let's think of better times we shared.

Everyone is telling me - it's April.

April, the harbinger of hope.

This time, to me, April turns out

to be the cruellest month...

Agitating dull emotions with arid hopes

Fusing memories and unfulfilled desires

Positioning me unto utter hollow, dry and empty.

Now, to whom shall i tell my grief

When you are past gone?

Who shall count my hot tears

Shed over my beloved for days and nights?

Who shall narrate the dark disheartenment

Which your dying caused that day?

I know, you're the first vivid bloom I'll see in the Spring

The first cordial raindrop April will shower

You're the first beam of light

When the sun sets out to gleam

And, I'll perceive that the face in the moonlet too is yours.

That your physical body is no more with me

And when your tangible memories fade out

The feel of your pelage, your eensy-weensy head, your back, your warm body against me

The scent and miaou of you when you were here,

I'll never bury those into oblivion.

Although time may bring in new friends and new food to fill the bowl

That one place in my heart belongs to none but you and always will

For nothing loved is ever lost and

You are loved so much.

Hold me now just one more time and let me hear you say

Since you care for me so much, you'll let me go today.

While you take me in your soft arms and embrace

Your tiny face is kissed again and again and again.

As I remember that I love the life we had together and the times we played happily

You seemed so much very tired and knew that your time on earth was over.

Although no stone stands over where you lie

It's on my heart that your life is engraved.

Now I imagine a heavenly image in my head

Of a place where there's no sorrow and pain

Where you and I can meet again to spend eternity.

Vadodara, 14th April, 2022

[niryumnam]

To War: The Reverist

She dreams of a house in the foothills

Far away from the bright city lights

Distant from the sordid and murky backdrops-

Of Shirui lilies and Dzuko fields

While dreaming, she derives delight.

During the day, she earns an honest wage

Harvesting rice beneath the scorching sun

By night, she dreams of better days;

The amalgamation of gold-ripened fields and forlorn days.

Oh, how she yearns for brighter days

When the sound of Uthum filled the air

Where children used to play, laugh, and sing without care.

Nevertheless, that was long before the war...

Before she lost her husband

Ere another lost the eldest son;

Things are so much different now-

Life used to be of so much fun and mirth.

She revenirs herself from losses

She dreams again of greener grasses and meadows

And the sweet smell of Chakhao.

She dreams of a house in the foothills

Made of U-thambal and Chinichampa.

She seeks and finds solace in her memories,

On a perfect-little-quiet piece of mind-

Delivering her a haven

Rather a sanctuary from the uncharitable world.

14th March 2022, Vadodara

[niryumnam]

Reverie

Let me stand still for a moment under this shaded tree

or sit down quietly for a while

on the smell of this fresh-cut grass

and watch fixedly as the world go by

laughing, toiling, and smiling.

Maybe you too can sit with me for a while

holding hands and consoling each other

and enjoy the silence in our eyes.

If we wish we can also ask a few others to join in

and talk to them if we want

of love, life, happiness, sadness, and what not?

And rejoice together uninhibited

at some long-forgotten story

while we silently watch the sun going down

while we worry not to get rushing anywhere.

Perhaps I will tell you my story in the midst of this

that I am too tired of all the thoughts in my head

of all the running, begging, and crying

and not taking a moment to myself, of myself.

As long as we want, we will sit together on the damp grass

holding hands without letting our reverie pass quickly

knowing just for a day

that we are living in the moment!

[niryumnam]

Forgiveness

While I cannot contain myself in fetters and limitations

Rummaging for an alibi

To decipher the very existential questions

Of us human beings and its nuances of

Relationships of myriad sizes and shapes

I am pushed and pulled for the sake of a solution.

For a longer period

My subconscious mind has been in a whirlpool

Churning out varied emotional equations

Of negations and acceptances

Therefore, defying the very argumentative voices inside

I am as if for eternity, tormenting myself

Alone and but alone.

Of all beings, God has blessed us with wonderful minds

Psyches of reasoning and intellects above all.

To be delicate and tough at the same amount

To align and synchronize our soul and body

And to prepare ourselves for the sublime Trimurti-

The Creator, the Preserver, and the Destroyer embodied in one; so powerful manifestations of an avatar.

I know we have wasted our minds by investing it too much

On annihilating all the races and species

In a jiffy or the blink of an eye

By generating deadly weapons and viruses

Or of cyberwars between powerful nations

Instead of investing our minds

To search for a harmonious

solution of peace and mutual trust.

After all, all wars started within levels of relations of countless associations.

Being the case,

I, at last, turn my back

And stop worrying about the intricacies

of the so called relationships

involved in the climax,

Since I have found my antidote

That enables me to make peace with my inner voices and complicacies.

Of three choices layout before my life-

Either give up the relationships,

Or finding the crux of the cause and continue,

And forgiving myself but for my sake.

I choose the last!

[niryumnam]

The Child

At last she gathers her strength.

She can no longer wait for God's hands to strike.

Whatever is needed has to be done by her alone.

She knows this would be her lot.

Neither can she kill herself nor the child.

But one fact, she cannot ignore-

"What's the baby's fault?"

The man's eyes fell on her beautiful and blooming body.

She knew he was observing her surreptitiously.

She could feel his lusty eyes where,

if given, could anytime devour his prey like a hungry predator.

Time passed by.

As if he had been waiting for this thing to happen.

He didn't want to spoil this opportunity.

He knew this would be the last chance and if he missed this time, nothing would ever happen again.

He mustered up his strength to lure the tender deer

who had just explored the world.

Her house stood alone far away from other houses in the village.

The nearby houses were atleast two kilometers away.

Anything happened remained unknown lest accidentally some passersby noticed.

Yet, this time, nobody passed her house to stop this fateful incident.

She was trapped in the hands of a monster.

"This is it, this is what I have been waiting for all my life, the man thought."

Next minute, the room was filled with clanging noise and at last the muffled sound. How many times she shouted and screamed, nobody heard except the man.

Now, everything's over.

There was no use of shouting and screams, she knew.

She was lying on the bed lifelessly when the man pulled himself and left the room composedly.

Days passed, months passed.

She was no longer herself.

One day, she decided to go to the upstream river and finish what was started nine months ago.

She went up and held the baby about to hurl to the raging river.

Shockingly, the child looked into her eyes and smiled back.

The innocence of a child could be seen in any child no matter how sinful the act was.

She realised.

"Is it the baby's fault, she asked?"

And holding the baby tight, she cried, oh, "my baby."

[niryumnam]

BETRAYAL

Like the Reed Sea on the one side

And the Arabian Sea on the other

Right here, we both are standing apart

Many thousands away from each other

As if waiting for a prophet, Moshe Rabbenu to rescue and cross us to a common anchorage

To escape from this exodus

Where we, no longer, remain as strangers.

In the ripples of my heart's waves

A teardrop glidingly dribbles down effortlessly

and flies to the realm of oblivion through the air.

I know, I have not altogether erased the scars

Etched in these lacerated tissues

As a hurt creaks when I try to sneak the wounds and dies down into flicker of ashes.

While my mind was on the quest of so many whys?

Many a time, I was thrown at the darts

As the dart flits further

I learn the oracular chakravyuh of human relationships

Which, in a jiffy, can be mucked up as mud without a slog.

Perhaps, the world just goes on uninterruptedly

Unmindful to our woes and sorrows on the other hand

Untended to many untold stories of our secret arguments

Of differences in our sentiments.

This is the persona of life; our adopted life.

Maybe, one day, I will find you on the other side of the universe

Right there I long to find myself in a parallel universe

Stretching my hands to touch you, feel you.

And tell the world that our existence is all a semblance

Where differences and bitterness can be averted and resolved.

For at least, we can be friends again!

@Vadodara, 5June2021