Staring at the corridor beyond me
I realise I will soon be a stranger
to this place, this atmosphere.
Others will come where I have been
And go, perhaps, where I am going.
I think I will miss this place,
Sometimes; in bits and pieces.
Not more that.
After all, it’s not the first place
I have become a stranger to.
But this process of unknowing
Has a pattern too.
With the people, it will be a slow
Slide, a subtle shift that is felt
After it’s done.
It’s the place that will make me
An immediate stranger.
No more over-sweetened tea with friends,
Or waiting to get a coffee and hoping the
Machine actually works this time.
If I ever visit again, the machine
Might still be there later.
But my friends won’t. My memories
will be tainted with the feeling of
Not belonging here anymore.
I have kind of gotten used to this.
But as I wander along, traversing
The corridors between past and future,
I wonder how soon this place will change,
The past version remaining only in my memory.
Priyale Chandra, 23, is a freelance journalist and a student of Convergent Journalism at AJK MCRC, Jamia Millia Islamia.
Featured image credit: Franck V./Unsplash