Nesting

In the evenings, I stand in the balcony

And watch people leave,

Tired, worn out faces,

Bags slung across shoulder,

Carrying

A hastily washed lunchbox,

A nearly empty bottle of water,

Maybe an umbrella.

I try to probe deep beyond that surface

And unmask the hopes lying beneath,

I wish to see that,

They have things to look forward to in the evening,

As they kick-start their engine,

Or shift to first gear,

There is the promise of warm tea waiting at home,

Retired father dozing with newspaper in hand,

Milk boiling on the stove,

While mother stands by the back door,

Chatting with neighbor.

Wife just coming down having changed dress,

Her own face slowly peeling off its worries of the day,

Slowly blooming into a smile,

Kids in front of TV or comics; school bags

Thrown about on sofas and chairs,

As usual..

As I see these people, in the evenings,

With their drowsy faces and

Slightly damped clothes…

I hope that the day did them well,

The world and its unfairnesses

Were bearable today,

I hope that when sun sets,

They have the familiarity of their homes

To return to..