Preeyanka

It’s quarter to six, the sun is still warm on my legs.

A ticket for one and some samosas to revive me,

I wait for the warning signal, my FL-12 is due.

 

No ladies coupe for me, I need leg and breathing space.

Light blue checks in pink, two bangles in each hand

Those nimble hands looked for the familiar clap.

 

Father and daughter, tender moments of catch-catch.

Generous, they shared their seat with me at 2nd’bad,

“What is your name?” from a weary heart to a warm one.

 

This little bag of bones goes to a blind school in Malakpet.

Does not like the curd-rice and rasam they serve there,

Her laughs are feeble but full of life.

 

It’s summer vacation, the school called.

She is gonna be home until June 20th, err 12th (she corrects).

Father’s youngest and dearest.

 

Even stoned faces after a day long work smiled.

She sees what she feels and lives what she feels,

Her “abbo!” for every shy expression and delight.

 

Father and I talked about Hyderabad and Delhi, Maharashtra.

They speak Telugu, Hyderabadi Hindi and are Kannada,

Preeyanka wants to grow up to teach Telugu.

 

One brother works in Satyam, brings home 6k!

Another in the printing press,2k less!

Father has a plant, from a humble 5k to 15 lakhs.

 

Asked me how much rent I pay?

He imagined my salary, I laugh gently. 

The vis-a-vis of the complex and the simple, their humble thrill.

 

Her little hand slipped into mine, played a few games, talked.

Asked me if I can come for tea, uhmm…

Hitec came, bye and be good. I should have.

 

 

 

 

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