The day is clean like sunshine.
I woke up with a few bad dreams;
I refuse to call them nightmares.
The kid had bad dreams too.
Of being stuck in an elevator for 24 hours,
of forgetting a window isn’t screened and jumping into it,
of fire starting on our third floor.
The anxiety of my oncoming travel,
filtered in me in the form of
a maid servant in an old house – Sweet Home, where I lived a decade ago…
she goes mad and uses a pen to stab everyone in the chin.
Then as I send her free with a bag, money, and some distracted advice….
As she trundles down the stairs, people collect in the distance.
In an instant I realize an old man has jumped off a building
to his death.
But there is no blood around him. He is asleep on a park bench.
It’s morning and the hara-kiri of dreams is over.
Sunlight kills germs.
I can feel my petals gathering up, closing in snugger.
I am becoming a bud.
This is how we leave…
This is death.
Not of body
but a new beginning.
I have inklings only now.
You can say I did not permit them earlier.
I wanted to be distracted by everything existential.
This is so I don’t savor a laddoo still being moulded.
Now I allow myself to eat sweet meat –
a pinch in a circle.
I allow those thoughts tapping at me
of my life changing irrevocably.
I can sense and feel it. I know it.
and nothing can stop it.