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.