I was the lake in Naukuchiatal
as the clock rang in
the first morning bell.
I was the bright lights shining
that illuminated
the smiles of strangers
and yet not strangers.
Divided by stories, united by them.
I was the winter sky,
upon the hills and meandering roads,
playing hide and seek with the half moon,
and that surprised brown mouse
that looked up at the car lights
and ran into the jungle after a brief pause.
I was the lazy sun, the foggy morning,
in a small cottage in Jungliagaon.
I was the black bird, the yellow bird,
the bluebird, on the rose bush.
I was the rose that was white
and probably a pink.
I was the pine forest, the pine trees,
the pine cones scattered on the uneven path.
I was the river Gola that snaked
through the deep valleys.
I was the sun that shone bright
through the pine trees,
making it sap a lovely scented gum.
I was the happiness, the smiles
on a paraglide.
I was the wind that made the
lakes shimmer and dance,
a bit like a Polki necklace.
I was the moon, a bit bigger than yesterday.
I was the love across the hills.
01.01.2026
