When I was a child, I found it lying in the streets abandoned. I picked it up and pampered it. And now like a friend, through clouds and through mist its genderless voice leads me to that naïve sapling that has raised its head too soon from the snow and then goes right back in, enlightened, frightened, and wise beyond its years. It sighs with me at the wrinkled, entwined hands of lovers when they walk each other from this street to that, from this shop to that from this year to that. Holding my hands, it has taught me to walk on this mystic road towards a word greater than truth. They laugh and they say it’s all in my head. But yet, when I least expect, it talks to me.
Vibha Malhotra's Blog