After work
I’m walking home,
Half distracted,
Mostly tired,
Glancing at my phone
Now and then.
Oh — it’s 31st December.
A friend asked me
To join him
And his family
To celebrate
The new year.
I’d rather be sleeping.
Because, Murta—
I’m too old for this stuff.
Tired physically,
Even more tired mentally.
I take a turn
And suddenly
I’m at a beach.
I question myself —
Wait,
I don’t live
In a city with a beach.
I walk further,
And there I am —
Sitting on the sand,
Looking at a shop
Far away.
I think I see
2026
Written on a ship
Coming this way.
The ship picks up speed
And crashes onto the shore.
I run —
Only to realise
There is no shop,
And I’m back
In my room,
Half asleep,
Dreaming of
A New Year celebration
By the beach,
With you
And a kulfi.
It may not happen tomorrow.
But we’ll work it out.
See you by the beach —
If not tomorrow,
Then some other day.
We’ll stand there,
Look at that shop,
And have that ice cream
In the night.
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