Nightfall

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great post

Epiphany in the Cacophony

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He would start work at 7pm sharp. Not a minute early, not a minute late. He did his job with pride, standing tall as the little town went about its life. He would watch the little boys racing down the lane, middle aged women on their way to the grocery store, the old men who’d walk down the lane for their daily dose of Indian politics and healthcare prices. The town hadn’t changed in years.
His eyes drifted to the group of young wives who sat by the park opposite him. Huddled together, painted nails, eyes drawn, their hands marked with the pale orange of fading henna. They seemed to converse in giggles. He sighed. He had seen young girls turn to beautiful brides and beautiful brides turn to scornful mothers-in-law. Only a matter of time, he thought, before their youth gave way to rough hands, pale sarees and sweat…

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Dear Bangalore

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great post ! so relatable !

Epiphany in the Cacophony

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We are now descending into Bangalore International Airport, temperature 20 degrees, clear skies.

Music to my ears. I step out of the plane and watch as the crowd rushes to claim their baggage. Each one trying to catch up with the person ahead of them. I join them in their little race. l look at the transparent door ahead of me, the only thing separating you and me now. Miles and miles now reduced to a few metres and a transparent door. I realise how much I’ve missed you. That I crave you like a bird craves the sky, like the morning craves the sun, like the taxi drivers outside crave a confused tourist.

I get my bags and step out of the door. You hug me, the familiar, cool breeze gathering me in its arms instantly. I can tell you’ve been waiting for me. It has been too long.

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