They speak of growth as though it is painless.

Natural yes.

Easy never.

They speak of other things too. Things which can latch themselves around the very air you breathe, acting as the cocoon. But never the butterfly.

The city no longer roars as it did. You try to lean in, try to fathom its heartbeats but they are nothing more than gentle thuds, sounding as though they are miles away when really they aren’t. They can’t be.You’re still here. The distance was never covered but mostly because there wasn’t much cloth left.

The cloth was warm. Like the dupattas  you speak so often of now. Like the handholds you miss so frequently these days, weeks, months. Like the hugs in which you now wish you hadn’t been the first to let go.


city of blinding lights




Leave a reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s