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Chappals
I remember home Ma Her chappals They were hers they were mine We wore them together, turn by turn Till those slabs of thin rubber took shape The ups and downs, the myriad contours of our feet… And then I left. Now only ma wears them. Her chappals They seem to have fondly changed shape They have comfortably fitted now, into her feet Because we don’t wear them anymore – only ma does. And sometimes now, when I go back home And sometimes when I wear her chappals, our chappals They don’t feel the same anymore. My feet They don’t feel the same at the heel They should be lower Just beneath the toe it used to be higher. And the rubber straps They don’t hold me so securely no longer They will never feel the same again. That is how they are Chappals They forget Only I remember. Only I know they will never be how they used to be Only I know nothing will ever be how it used to be Nothing, I know, nothing will ever be the same a...
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