That summer night of March the 21st… The last time my eyes gazed upon the world outside my gate…
A night from when, this flat and its walls, became my prison and my home, changing its shape from one to the other, in step, to the vaccilations of my mind…
Up and down, the curves wave…
Sometimes letting in the light and sometimes drowning me in darkness…
Like a cat on the wall, that could fall to either side, I move on, with the moon lighting my path and a crab holding my hand…
As we move, on this very thin line… The one between solitude and loneliness.
I wonder…
I wonder… if I would look back with nostalgia, for everything this time has given me… Or with a dread of the fear it made me feel…
I wonder… If I will remember the warmth of her voice… Or the fear of a throat pain…
I wonder… If thinking about the food I made, will make me smile… Or give me a shiver for the anxiety I felt, when I swallowed a bit of soap…
I wonder… If I will remember the conversations with people I had not talked to in years… Or sweat up, thinking about those late dark nights, when I ached for a call…
I wonder… If I will enjoy the memories of a time in silence… Or get anxious remembering the times when this very silence, frightened me…
There is a lot that I wonder…
As I move on towards my gate, under the soothing light of the moon and the warm embrace of the crab…
A simple cat, on a wall…
My Discovery of India 