21 May 2024

Barefoot

To all those roads I walked 
Barefoot, when any sort of a
Footwear was a sign of luxury.

The shrubs we invaded and
The trees we climbed to eat fruits.
The thorns that we stepped
Over that got till the bones.

And all those bored grannies,
In the noon, sorting groundnuts,
Keen on digging into your foot to
Liberate you from the nosy guest
With their safety pins.

The cashews you collected that
Summer, you sold for sixty per kg,
To buy yourself a pair of Paragon
Slippers. It's a long way you've
Come from there.

But even then, when the 8 am
Bus from native leaves to your
Mom's village-
The hot soil and unintended
Sharp black stones on
The kaccha roads call you.

And you feel a brief shudder in
Feet and the soles of the footwear
You now wear shy away a little.