16 years on.
the lady has been regular with steady state Shiva;
sometimes an old gentleman.
started, stiff and straight;
a walking stick,
a waist belt holding the back;
an uncertain stammer of feet;
fumbles to Shiva, waits for her old man.
a stuttering torso down the gravel path,
a beard seeking directions from the wind,
eyes scanning the skies, coat pockets bulging with
yesterdays.
they shared benches at school, college, canteens;
drifted.
share a cement bench under a rain tree,
biting into vada pav, sipping tea.
fluttering prayer flags.