Impressions

Part of growing up is realizing That safe havens are illusory. I used to go to my mother when I was small, And know she would make things right. Mother’s presence does not give me that assurance anymore. I have this memory of Christmas eve in London, It is a difficult time for an outsider with no moorings in the city, Streets are silent, shops are closed, There is no place that offers a balm to your homesickness. I strolled down Huddleston Road… And saw a family sitting at the dining table by their window. There I was, at the periphery, Wistfully looking at the centre of the circle, wanting in. I wanted to go home. And yet… that image took me back to this time in my childhood, I was playing with my friends on our terrace, Games of our growing up years – lagori, kho kho, lock and key. I stopped by at their place on my way back, They showed me the new upholstery their father bought for the house, It was Diwali the next day, They spoke a...