Dickens, my one true love, comes to mind, so often in the city I now call home... As a child I had visited it and looked around in wide eyed wonder. The city famous for its chicanery and power made a dent in my little heart a long while ago. I remember wishing to be a part of it. A strange wish for a 10 year old.
Delhi, like truth, or like a diamond, has many facets- ugly and beautiful. It has many seasons- clear and distinct. It reminds me with each passing day that it is a truly transient world that I live in. In the city of wide streets, show and pomp, chicanery I have discovered parts of myself and strengths that I have come to cling to. I discovered a capacity for peace, for industry, for endurance, acceptance and for love that has reached past my body, my thoughts, my heart into some part of me that I hadn't known existed. It is here, that for the first time in my life, I felt myself coming apart like a braided edge of a shawl, the threads reaching everywhere. Delhi has seen me at my best and at my worst. It has let me flourish and contained my soul. In it I have learned to love with abandon and now to wear an armor of caution so that no one or nothing can pierce my heart.
I have found new friends, strangers, dogs who knew nothing beyond what I chose to display (which was really just an ointment face or a beaming smile) show strange affection and concern bordering on love, going out of their way to bring a smile on my face. In this city known for manipulation and power games, ironically, I learned to trust, based on what I sensed (may be one day I will rue it bitterly or maybe not).
Maybe Delhi, and everything in it was fate. I have felt despite my occasional sense of aloneness, I feel a door has opened- to the palace of illusions I dreamed of. A world of flux and change. A long time ago I lived in a fort with comfort, ease and protection- a little princess. Yesterday I lived in a palace of illusions, today I walk the road of changing seasons hoping winter is close and trials by fire will soon be done, tomorrow, who knows? Delhi, I say to myself. You've taught me a lesson, and you've taught it well.
Beyond the dark of my only window, a pale yellow moon hangs in the sky. What mysteries are hidden behind his pockmarked face? Time is perhaps a master player. But within the limits allowed to humans in this world that the sages call unreal, I will be a player too....