i miss.

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I miss auto rickshaw rides at dusk, the wind whipping my face and hair, the twilit sea of humanity melting together

I miss rich, doughy-sour dosa folded and dipped into fiery sambar

I miss children’s school uniforms in colors as varied as schools

I miss throwing my doors open to cool winter mornings

I miss walking to Nilgiri’s for groceries at 8:00 at night, the streets alive with people and noise and life

I miss the swelling satisfaction upon finding that elusive baking ingredient

I miss flowers that demand to be noticed: hot pinks and oranges and tropical red

I miss Deepakshi’s rajma

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