Esha Oberoi

Esha Oberoi

What would you wear, sunshine? What would you wear when you step off your bed and crinkle your eyes? What would you choose to tell the world today, a perceptive contraption of your own creation, the one you shine through? What cloaks your stitches, what warms your heat? What hangs off your glorious edges? What certain scarf on your high neck? What flowing silk for your invisible stride?

What makes you – the layers or the light?

Tell me of your free will, and how you provoke yourself. Tell me about the billowing smoke that releases you from it all, and how you fly. Are you swift with the kestrels or do you command like the wind? Aren’t you the thundering rain, the unquestioning sky and the flawed storm? Infinite yet human. Generous yet vain. Glowing embers in the dark.

Do you trip when you dance the routine ballet? Do you laugh for the stumble made it perfect, the way it was to be? Do you laugh a misty waterfall as an evening falls across the city, a quiet forest of people dotting the view as you see the poetry behind its imperfect perfection? The even uneven. The bitter sweet. The sensual distance and the unspeakable telepathy of words lost in what is being spoken.

Tell me how you pour your red tomorrows in shimmering crystals. Tell me how you sip at their shivering brightness. The tomorrows are just around the corner. Shy and waiting for you to hold their hand and share a forbidden kiss. Tell me how you believe, how you write your days, how you know every word and what to wear.

You told me how you draped a muslin over bare skin when cold had once bit. And how you changed coats every season, as you walked different streets, lived new Sundays. How you took it all off in the comfort of your warm hearth and nothing really changed much. For the layers never made you. They only adorned the times. Flippant songs and frivolous games. The chase and held hands. Lashing out and making peace. You were you all along.

Facing the cliff to climb the air and winging it with utter faith. Walking along through the uncertain fog building your next steps, road or no road. Crackling burst of sinful flavours in a pearl white dinner plate, with a hearty glass of gleeful red wine, innocuous and certain, straight faced yet teasing. Esha Oberoi.

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