Response Poem 2 - Prabahan Shakya

"This is the closest I'll ever be to home"
-Agha Shahid Ali, 'Postcard from Kashmir'

It was to rain all the way
from London to Edinburgh.

A man in a muffler sitting opposite
saw a familiar face in me.
"The weather will be just fine
by the time we reach."

"I don't care as much for the destination
as I do for the ride."
I replied mindlessly, for
I was busy staring at the kid
struggling with fruits
served on a plate.
I ridiculed at the thought of having mango with a goddamn fork...

"But you look like you're heading home."
the mufflered man said eagerly.

I smiled. 

I saw somebody else
in my pale reflection
off the train window.

I was disappointed.

Maybe I had caught on the alien accent
with a little too much finesse.
Was I losing touch with my language?
I mumbled the same words
in my mother tongue
just to make sure I wasn't.

A man in uniform inquired about beverage.
I poured home in a white porcelain cup
from a jug labelled 'Assam Tea'.

The window lay closed.
It pains me,
that it rains at home too.
And I am no longer a part of it.

It was to rain all the way
from London to Edinburgh.