AIR TICKETS

Four bottles of herbal shampoo

And an air ticket to go home.

A pair of jeans

With peepholes.

She sleeps with her coffee mug,

Clutched near her nose,

She likes the way it smells,

Never did really like the taste.

She will wake when the final boarding call is announced.

Strange days she has been through,

Staring eyes, fixed firm on her pale skin,

Strange enough, to be just a dream.

India was coloured so bright,

Green, brown, saffron and red.

Loud moonlight caught on her blonde hair.

Like a caged bird,

She almost forgot the silence of the night.

Cotton fabric breathes for her,

Tired feet,

Flip flop clad,

Pedicured nails a little bit time-scratched.

Photographs of Pondicherry,

Sandalwood elephants and coconut shell monkeys,

Silk stoles and Bank cards,

In her custom made leather handbag.

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