Photo by Nagesh Gaikwad on Unsplash

Stepping out into the pitiless rain, once again, I ran into you. Like a tide, a spot in the ocean of somewhere-goers, I moved forward powerlessly. The raindrops pattered against my helmet and my breath fogged the glass, still my fingers remained unfazed. It’s been months, I thought, yet you’re the same—potholes not any more displaced than my feelings for you.

Running towards the nearest coffee shop, I put my bag over my head; scared the red of my mask would anger the street dogs. The old lady on the street shot me an angry look instead, yelled (and it’s impossible to translate), chatri ka nahi anli ga. Don’t misunderstand, I could attempt to translate but words in any other language are insubstantial; incomparable to the maternal chiding of marathi, the simultaneous ruggedness and intimacy—a stranger chastising me for not taking enough care. I smiled apologetically, realised she couldn’t see me through the mask anyway, realised she didn’t have an umbrella on her either.

This is the generosity of you, the much too good familiarity within your streets. Holding me back in some ways, lifting me up in others. The ways in which you’ve always been too easy and the ways in which you’ve always been so hard—never letting me learn how to park right because there was always someone willing to help, never allowing unhurried conversations because there was always someone running out of time.

How did I grow to love you the way I do, love you the way you are?

You are the skin on me and the blood in me; even then I miss you beyond these four walls of concrete, this shabby delineation they call home. I’ve been here all along, more than a year of stamping your pincode on my circumstance; even then I’m learning how to be with you from scratch. They say it’s a new beginning but there never was a period. So maybe this past year has been a semi-colon in the middle of how I knew you and how I know you still. A little breath of relief, a passing thought never held onto, a vivid dream on a sleepless night.