Roads

Relationships are fragile and depending on their particular contexts come across as either brittle or most irritatingly supple. Relatives need just a few reasons in order to enter into one and numerous reasons perennially wait for them to be used as excuses for breaking up. What a skewed distribution of resources!

The street can no longer meet the wheels of the taxis and the soles of my shoes. Blame the foggy, icy evening. Meaningless to say now “I love you street!”. What face will the car’s tyre show to the tar on the street when it gets sunny. No worries. The relationship shall start afresh. Love shall flower again.

The small fire at the sidewalk where all the rickshaw pullers have gathered. So loyal the fire seems to them and they in turn give me an impression that they will never leave it. Let them be sleepier and I want to see how many remain encircled. Morning and the fire shall be nowhere. A black ashy patch ruined by the rickshaw wheels. At its best, the patch shall also have disappeared. Thanks to the early morning sweeper.

My sweaters and my quilt appear divine to me right now. Come summers and I will hate the very touch. Its 10 and I have my shoes on. My dear shoes! don’t be disappointed. I shall be chucking you soon when I hit the bed. And the next few months, you shall be special. A humble request! Kindly do not curse me when it is warmer. I won’t need you so much then. All my belongings! please make a note of this great philosophical treatise I am sharing with all of you:

Things move on. Life never does!

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