It was a walk on dusty roads
There were returns, occasionally.
I registered the cigarettes first
The language second
Hesitating, I tumbled
The laughter followed wonderingly
The lessons were tough
Stories stuttered in between
I moved about the spluttering mustard seeds
Notes from a melody played by a boy
You stood there
I wished to touch you
Delhi's own
Claimed, a denial no more
Loved by you a dream
We awoke, on the same bed
A slight nudge
Chai was the call
There were no tea-leaves
