Rang Deeni or Homecoming

Teri mal-mal ki kurti, gulabi ho gayi..

(Your silken shirt got colored pink) 

You never know when it happens, when your soul feels like a sense of home.
And it’s there.

It cud be a person, idea, place. But it’s home.A sense of belonging, like someone or something’s taken your heart, Like the heat on Connaught Place (Delhi’s elegant Central square) .Or the Nirulas ice cream your Dad buys for you.

Or the love of your life, Like those guys on mobikes, walking around like Aamir Khan in ‘Jo jeeta wohi sikandar’,
Out to win..their goal and your heart. 

Finally she’s home.

The wandering girl, has come home. To Nirulas and the gol-gappas (North Indian street snacks). And the guys on bikes, looking like Aamir.

With the gajras in her hands. And the Holi color on her face.

My favorite festival of all. The color, the rang, the spring with the high people.. and the water on your skin, with color stains on your hands and your face and your eyes..and your soul.