Walk

I take small steps
One, two, three… one, two, three…
It’s a long journey
Like crossing an unending desert
But I walk
And my footsteps leave a trace of stories
Stories of my adopted city
Of congested unhygienic rooms
With pictures of Bachchans and Khans on the wall
Of workplaces, unsafe, dirty, smelling, dark
With tiny temples and mazars
Just outside

Songs of my homeland beckon me
The feel of fresh air
Broken schools, unfinished houses
Country roads
Non-motorable, romantic
Smell of home food, trees and earth
I do not know if there will be food at home

I walk with all my possessions on my back
My mended clothing, dented aluminum utensils
Two sarees I had bought for my mother and wife
Some cheap plastic toys for my children
A pair of old wearable shoes for my father

I walk…
One, two, three….One, two, three
I don´t know when I will get home
At times I don’t know where I am going
Nights are cold, I can’t sleep
When I do, I cry out in my dreams
Someone inside me tells me
“Keep going, walk, and walk, and walk.”
And I keep walking

I walk
One, two three…one two three
With hundreds of people
Vaccinated, unvaccinated
My feet
And thousands of feet
We walk one day, two and three
One after the other, one two three
A line of humans
Like ants carrying a heavy load
Keep walking, they say
Ahead lies home

Last night
I lost my chappals while climbing
On a truck that gave us a ride
But I walk
One, two, three….one, two, three
Wearing the old shoes meant for my father
I still have the sarees and the toys
And a few rupees in my pocket
I walk…

One day
When I return
I will buy new posters of Bachchans and Khans for my room
Paint the walls of the temple and the mazaar
With saffron and green colours
In that order
Ask my Seth
To let the sunlight come through the factory windows
He has promised to take me back
And save to buy a new pair of shoes
For my father

“Rakesh Basant”