Black Coffee and Grey Stories

There are moments when I wish I could run back

to my childhood home,

Run back to the crowded streets where I learnt to ride a bike,

Walk the same uneven roads where I first fell in love,

Pray in that one temple that always calmed me down,

The lonely terrace where I had endless rain dances,

The cozy room where I whispered all my secrets,

The swing I sat on for hours singing to myself.

To the porch light that always guided me back home after a long day,

To the comfort of mom’s scoldings and dad’s stories.

I wish I could run to my friends to whom I once belonged

To those late-night chats over chai and Maggie.

There are moments when I wish I could run back to my childhood home.

Sometimes when it rains here far far away from my childhood home,

I can smell the overwhelmingly familiar rain,

I can see myself dancing among the chrysanthemums and jasmine in the same garden…

May be because,

far far away from my own childhood home,

I am now creating another childhood home,

for my daughters.

There are moments when I wish I could run back to my childhood home.