I walk in the streets of a foreign land I have been walking for years first I was alone then I walked with my other half and now I walk with my issue and the other half with a sense of fullness I move and marvel and move ahead thinking of going home and move along in the street towards the market thinking I must be going home for my child for it is the issue of her education that makes me think so I am the part of a diaspora that move for work and for fortune coming to terms with cultural differences adjusting but never with the feeling of quite at home missing the flavors of home which I try to find in the TV serials, radio broadcasts in my language when crossing borders, flying high the airhostess smiled for a newspaper and I immediately catch one from my country and keep to read it and reread it and preserve it for the time when the feeling of loneliness pats at my back encouraged, immediately I immerse myself in the fluidity of the news and views which take me for a swim in the native shore where sea gulls wait for breaking news of a place where I fail to reach during my annual visits
I swim in the Red Sea and think of Ganga I am a double soul with a double common sense j'adoube in a play of chess after crossing the borders I am one but not one I am a fractured plain I am a river split I am a buffer zone, a superintendent of my psyche, a self-counseling psychiatrist, a consoling conscience - I am a seeker of openings and doors - the traveling god of diaspora I look back and look forward.
