Photo by Ahmad Odeh on Unsplash

I am just four and half, playing with rag
dolls. You are kaki’s younger brother.

I am seven, maybe eight, climbing neem
trees. You are friend next door.

I am almost a teenager, walking back from
school. You are a stranger on motorbike.

I am weeks shy of fifteen, solving algebra
equations. You are our math teacher.

I am twenty-one, flying home for summer
internship. You are on the aisle seat.

I am twenty-eight, rushing to meet work
deadlines. You are my colleague.

I am thirty-nine, walking in a crowded
street. You are a stranger in a suit.

I am fifty-five wearing nine yards of sari, cooking a
feast. You are my husband’s brother.

I am pushing eighty, reminiscing with my best
friend. You are her husband.

I am everywoman. You are everywhere.
Nowhere am I safe from you.

organizer at heart. strategy consultant by trade. mostly prose with occasional forays into poetry. https://tinyletter.com/LunaRanjit

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