after the eighth period we used to burst out

of the school gates with our gazes hurtling past

the kulfis and the chanas to spot our rickshaw,

in a sea of rickshaws and vans, that will take us home.

ours was blue, the bottomlast in the human eye's history,

but for us the easiest to spot, the color of anticipation of home.

we sat crowded, sweat like the body's submission

to homework, limbs jut into hot gaps, and our bags

all stuffed in the back. sometimes, the bag on top fell

through the velcro onto the busy road, threatened to be crushed.

gaikwad uncle parked at the edge of the highway and rearranged

the bags and i saw that there was space where i couldn't see it.

replacing the punctured tyres, the wheels of dharma,

bright as the blue sun, took us home.

and i believe it'll take me home again.

~ ajay

12/3/2024