My Passport

Make a note!

I am an Indian

I own my name with a title

That’s embedded even before my birth and

Still rooted in my soil that always mixes with my flesh and blood

My father, his father and all my forefathers,

Got churned in this soil although their souls are in the purgatory

I grew... and the peepal plant I saw in my childhood also grew with me

Stones and grasses I walked on became a walkway

The sky and earth I used to play and sleep amid

The sea with sounding waves, and hills and mountains with echoes

Are the same

Watching the pigeons and other birds sitting over the roof of my home;

I feel no difference

Then why I need to show my blood is red

And that’s still flowing in my body?

I am still alive... but,

Oblivious why my passport is still feeling birth pangs of my title

At this point in time!