Decades in Her Hands*

Someday, I might just drop everything, wave goodbye to everyone, and leave for India to find the one who holds decades in her hands.

I’ll fly across the world, jettisoning my worries into the ocean where they’ll feed mermaids and the magical creatures of the deep–and they’ll be no more.

I’ll plant my feet on that ancient land and breathe in the mysteries breathed out by its elaborate temples as old as the gods whose holy names still reverberate through the silent jungles and deserts and in the corners of iron cities drowning in the noise of humanity’s tongues.

I’ll touch the earth and feel the dust of fallen empires in my palms, thinking about my insignificance in the endless river of time and in the vastness of life, sweat dripping as my pale skin bakes in the sun.

Immortal secrets will tear me away from the transient troubles that plague my soul, and the wind–wiser than the wizened shaman in the street–will blow away the worldly whims of my mind.

Into the sea of humanity I’ll dive, riding a whirlpool of saris worn by women whose deep-set eyes peel away at shallow hearts.

I’ll be a foreigner in a strange land that has seen foreigners come and go for centuries and even older times that men can’t possibly remember anymore. And the land will know me more than I do myself, unraveling my trivialities like a scroll.

Yet somehow I won’t care and won’t look back one glance homeward until I find you.

I’ll search for you in the busy streets of Maharashtra, tracing your whereabouts from the sunshine you’ve sprinkled among happy friends and the shattered hearts you’ve broken among unlucky lads along the way.

Maybe I’ll catch glimpses of the countryside you’ve seen in one of your long rides, then perhaps I’ll understand your infinite joy better–why you’re so happy and grateful in a world usually so sad and thankless.

The moon and the stars will guide me as soon as they’ve stopped quarreling like in one of your stories that have entertained me countless of nights.

And as the blanket of darkness covers the Mumbai sky, I’ll walk past all the losers in love and for once feel at home.

But I won’t give up. I won’t let the sorrow defeat me. I’ll trudge on, looking for you among the million faces and the dozen races that flow endlessly over the golden crown of the land like the Ganges.

Because I know I will find you wherever there’s beauty, wisdom and hope. Wherever there’s soft and gentle art that nurtures the soul. Wherever there are people smiling for something great that you’ve done and for which you’ve never asked for anything in return but the mirth in their eyes.

Years may pass as they do like past loves and falling grains of sand in an hourglass, but I’ll stay ’til I find the one who holds decades in her hands.


I haven’t written anything for this blog in ages but this one is for Yugs, my friend in India. Hope you like it, Yugs! πŸ™‚

2 thoughts on “Decades in Her Hands*

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