Inside

By Annesha Ghosh

"Just a few more years, and it will all be over,

The run, the sweat, the incessant need

To go higher -

Few more years, and you'll soon be standing

In your own La La Land!",

This is what they said.

This is what they say.

To a tired child, burdened with the terror

Of a heavy bag and an empty playground,

This is what they say,

Few years after their own cycle of chase.

Here I am, sitting at the borderline

Of my "few years", and the untold chapters

Of the next few(?) ones.

I was a child, when this plateau

Was named a mountain

In the goals of my naive imagination.

And as I sit and wonder,

In the dark of the hour,

About what should I do next?

About how should I do it?

Or maybe, should I even...?

Rain is falling in drops and droplets,

Spluttering against the hardness of my skin,

Yet, somehow, I can feel them move,

Seeping right through the barriers of mine.

I love the way raindrops fall,

Pitter-patter, or maybe utter chaos,

Uniting with the organic flavour of mud,

Gifting us the freshness of a loving petrichor.

I love how rain takes me back to childhood,

Of sudden holidays and dreamy paper boats,

And khichdi made by my loving mother,

That felt nothing like

The fearful storm outside.

And then, on this very plateau,

I found my answer.

Home it is.

The "present" it is.

Little gifts of life - it is.

Not the run, not the chase,

Not this never-ending madness.

You are happy just where you are (hopefully).

I am happy just where I am.

Inside.

By Annesha Ghosh