Hari Bol

I don't mind going all places back where it started, I would even not mind walking along the roads of Kamla Nagar, I would wait for a long at the chowk, or even holding flowers at McDonald's for so long and leaving them unattended there only. Bhaiya would still smile at us handing over the plate only to me. VC lawn must be all new now, nangia would still be the same. Delhi wouldn't be the same anymore now. Danish did leave his PG, the only place where I wrote instant goodbye letters and got all those coloured photographs printed, where I would leave my bag and run. Now I left for so only, Delhi isn't the same for me too, I am living next to Raj Bhawan here in Puri, the governor's house. I have only found myself alone here, walking to the only cafe I loved so much, my day would begin, all travel, senior citizen homes or to some shrestha schools, I meet people there, I find home, I make sure to make a living more better, make the real home because I am a guest only for an hour. I get in next to the rider through all the bridges, national highways, and lush green lands, we rush back to Puri. Days here I have spent here walking along the coast, under the stars and moon, facing slow and aggressive waves, Swarg Dwar, Tota Gopinath, Konark and even witnessed flag changing at five in the evening at Jagganath. I read and write to at the cafe, it's an open and closed space, visitors somedays and not so somedays in the compound space, cold coffee, fries or maybe somedays white sauce pasta on my table, before leaving its always choco brownie with icecream. The time here, it Spotify, one heart to another by Vidhi, my papers, bag, files, diary and whole of me here, I miss all, hope had this courage to speak along, govt's circuit house, and the other day