I don’t know about you;
But I hate flying.
I hate the moment
When I am off terra firma!
There’s strangers smiling at me
On the plane,
And I smile back at them:
Just a stretching of lips.
Plastic smiles,
And learned politeness,
Skin deep affections,
And observed manners.
Do you know?
When the plane touches ground,
My heart opens finally,
It begins to breathe.
Breathes in the smell
Of the earthy people,
My fathers’ coarse hands,
My mother’s herbal smell.
Our old unpretentious car
Knows its way around the maze,
That I call my home town,
The confused, chaotic Kerala.
Yet, I am home.
There is nothing more I want.
Here’s my anchor, my ground zero.
I find peace here. I belong here.
