Easier said than done

Often when I visit

the hills or a

pristine beach 

for a mini vacation

I end up saying

that life would

be much better

there, and how I

wish to make a shift

sooner or later.

Then why does a

long stay

at the same pretty

place, reminds me

of the concrete and
clutter, which are

functional body parts

of where I have lived

since forever. Why do

I begin to miss the

place I have shrewdly

criticized all my life

for a million reasons?

It is as if a part of

me is always there-

shining with the

T3 lights,
even  at midnight
Moving through
 the spiteful summer air.

Gorging away to glory,
Golgappas and kulfi
Chattering and

adding to the prevalent

noise pollution.

Star trekkin’ 
through the night smog.

That part of me 
turns on the ignition
 of a vehicle

called saudade
on which I race
back home
because

at the end of the

day it is easier

said than done.

---

[1] (Portuguese) meaning love that remains. (especially with reference to songs or poetry) a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia