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.

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