Dedicated to a Kaleidoscope

Lucknow. A world spreading tangible sun, imaginations of a tree-house built on the widespread Neem, an openness piercing our cells, and a world of confessions and confusions. A world carrying me to the ruins of motimahal in some far-fetched coming century where the moon was breaking down in silvery powdery glitters. A world had been incomplete without someone. The city we despised in the first place, now has to be put in our memoirs. Come home. The journeys from Motimahal to Indira Canal, to Gomtinagar, or to Allahabad showed us the insights of our companionship. Different lives roll together. We see beyond our La Marts and Lohia Park for something strange and unexplainable, and with all delights. The Terabithia has been calling us.

To Terabithia...

I close my eyes. A brighter moon. We walk towards it. We wander. We meander.We traverse the path of unknown delights. Some feet desperately want to tap on the floor. The silvery is peeping from behind the trees. Every word leaves behind. A subtle touch of blue overshadows the sky. I walk on. He holds my hands. We walk on. We move on. Traffic lights get blurred. We fall back on the grass with hands in each other's. The moon reveals herself barely from behind the trees. It had never been so simple and so warm. So intoxicating. An enigma runs inside me. Another Notting Hill. A stream is crossed. A walk. A touch. We have reached the Terabithia. The stillness and fits of passion grows in me.The evening drizzles.

I open my eyes. We are walking...

I fancy again. I will wait.