Breakfast for three, hundred and fifty rupees.
A trail of tea travelling through cups of steel,
One held over another.
Trees burdened by what they’ve witnessed,
Hunched over.
A sly wink.
A wrinkled smile.
No sign of rain, but a forgiving sky.
Aware, that people are tired.
Always tired, always trying.
A quiet sun.
A man in uniform.
An army camp, the landmark for directions to a school.
Water over the Vaduvakkal bridge.
Yet another green-clad statue, armed and gold plated.
Suspecting eyes at road blocks, movements monitored.
Waves too quiet, Mullaivakkal beach in memoriam.
Remembering what was lost.
A land disputed, remembers what could have been.
A mother still weeps for her long lost son.
A mother weeps anew, for one recently taken.
Photos clutched close to their chests.
Always watched, their thoughts under surveillance.
Barbed wire everywhere.
Barbed wire everywhere.
