I am thinking of the spaces we occupy.
Places like this where I’m sitting amidst palm trees, a clear blue swimming pool, wicker chairs, some lemon water. A small lapse in perception and one could be fooled into thinking one were somewhere exotic. Like Sri Lanka. Or the Maldives. Yet these are only the calamitous ruins of a corporate city dense with dust and populace. A city constantly moving past even its own history. How effortlessly they change its name from Gurgaon to Gurugram, wiping its slate clean. Yet nothing gives here, not even its people.
I am thinking of the spaces I occupy —
these places in the mind that serve as escapes. An oasis of respite from the sometimes incomprehensible moorings of daily life. These are not wiped clean by the schemings of any mind. These are where things begin. Most days I move freely in these rooms, bartering questions with a false sense of longing and belonging:
I am here
and yet is there
an elsewhere too
where things begin?