"The package" by Neha
What are you my country?
A longitude on the map,
A place on my mind,
An imprint on my heart.
You are the memory of my childhood,
You are the rebel of my youth,
You are the heartbeat of my love,
You are the many marathons I have run.
Many people with their many faces,
Spoken word and unsaid smiles,
Walking on your green summer grass,
Makeshift swing and banana tree in my backyard.
My first cycle from which I fell,
The swimming lesson I learnt
staying afloat half drowned,
Coins to play Mario bros and Pac-man
in the video game shop by the corner.
You are my mother's warm caress,
You are my father's pat on the back,
You are the endless world wars with my brother,
You are the last song my granny sang.
Ping pong ball going up and down
Ice cream vendor whose name I forgot to ask
Comic books on long train rides
Soul searching and indulging of all kind
Streetside bookshop where I picked Catch-22,
Coffee shop with hot chocolate
fudge of dreams,
Singing how much is that doggie in the window
the one with the waggely tail.
You are my love of dance,
You are my favorite beanie doll,
You are the red key chain lantern I left behind,
You are this new road I found.
Festivities and charades,
Jumping ropes and Savlon,
Mango pickle and Threptin diet,
TV advertisement with child caught
reading with small night light.
Radio gaga and street singer's rhyme,
Footsteps and heads that count,
Magic, myth and madness,
Kerosene lamp, kites and LED solar sight.
You are the paintbrush in my hand,
You are hand made paper card I once designed,
You are my favorite torn jeans,
You are my colored wall.
Mirrors and red ribbons,
Rose water lotion and blue umbrella,
Dark Glasses and water bottles catching up
with summer delight,
Smell of lavender perfume making me high.
Old bus stop and girl in big brown hat,
Spring season , white flowery dress
and cute li'l bag,
Looking from corner of those dreamy eyes,
Memory and dreams mixed in ratio one is to one.
You are rainbow colors I love,
You are bamboo curtains by the balcony wall,
You are the cool earthen pot,
You are the wooden window they call jharoka
Tailor made cup cakes,
Remixed black and white song,
Realistic fiction and sometimes unreal life,
Red,Green, Yellow bangles making that sound.
Steps, stony passage and dusty doormat,
Painting with one flower I decided to buy,
Pigeons, planes and polka dots,
Miles and miles I continue to travel.
You are my many songs,
You are the one I told
with teary eyes so long,
You are the winter fog,
You are my orange, red and pink sky.
My country - you live in me
Just as I live in you,
My many lives in you
Your many lives in me.