yatra memories
Nov 24, 2022
the achievement
of walking right across a flyover
and not feeling the strain
the strength
provided by the enthusiasm of
the teeming crowds
the father
who wanted his son to meet
the last of the few good men
the girl
who found the same comfort
like in her mother’s embrace
the grandmother wizened
turning back the clock
and remembering the Iron Lady
the rising sun
thawing out slowly fingers
too frozen to even type
the people
whose faces so beautifully lit up
when I said I was from Goa
and then my mates
all brilliant brave souls
same storm different boats
the slogans they rendered
still ring true in my ears
like echoes in eternity
a never ending ripple
the ultimate tribute;
whenever out of the blue
I will now hear “Awaaz Do”
I will know what to reply
