Meri jaan

“What will you write of Delhi that hasn't already been written?"

“Will you write better than Akhil?” You asked.

I won’t write about his city. I’ll write about mine.

How I hang off the shoulders because I’m too short to look as cool.

Or how my legs can’t keep up with the speed sometimes

So, I stop. And I scream to make myself heard because it’s always too loud.

I’ll write about the bridges over the roads that are too wide to cross,

People scurrying like a million thoughts over scrunched up eyebrows.

I've often noticed how the pillars support the weight of a hundred trains. Proudly cemented.

And how the metro doors will mostly open to the left but sometimes, they’ll surprise you. 

Sometimes, it’s all right. But then again, you can’t cage a city.

There are suave, full Windsor black roads and snapback alleys.

You have those tinted glass shaded avenues and lanes that are lit by the glare off cheap sunglasses.

I’ll mention the night of course, but none of those that nonsense about a million stars.

There are flickering lights in the distance all the time, the comings and goings

Of cars, and trains and the buildings that make up its mind and they’re brighter than a thousand skies.

Maybe I’ll throw in a line about how I don’t know some places.

Or how I safely navigate the ones I know over and over again hoping to find something new

I won’t write about Delhi, love, I’ll write about you.