ना है इस दिन के शुरू होने की ख्वाहिश,
ना ही इसके खत्म होने का इंतजार।
बस एक छोटा सा ठहराव।
जहां कुछ चिड़ियों की हो चहचहाहट,
खिड़की में रखे पौधों के
पत्तों में हल्की सी हवा,
और थोड़ी सरसराहट,
हरे नीले पीले रंगों की खुशबू,
सांस लेने भर का समय,
और फर्श पर बिखरी कुछ कविताएं।
बस इतना ही।
Have left from somewhere,
And yet to reach anywhere.
There's this pause, however,
In between those places.
From where I have left,
To where I am going.
What if,
This pause,
is where I need to be?
A layover,
In between places.
Where I am not known,
but can be.
Not seen, and yet seen.
A layover,
Where I can just sit by the side,
Watching lives being lived,
And loved.
Coffees being sipped,
Books being read,
Phones scrolled through.
Some distant laughter and chatter,
A few kids laughing and running around,
A bunch of others crying,
and being consoled,
Folks sleeping on the chairs,
Others looking around,
Just as I do.
A layover,
Where I can let the sadness
of what, and who, I left behind,
sink in, and be one,
with the excitement
of who I may meet
and what I do next.
Where this sadness,
Or excitement,
Can just be, and be seen,
Finding an endearing space,
As does the airport coffee,
In my heart, and my body.
A layover,
not just between flights,
But also of the time
I am leaving behind,
To whatever may
come next.
