While Dhanno gets ready to climb the Chandrasheela peak,

Banno thumps her way around the 333 metre ‘murmur’  mud track, good for the joints,

in the BMC garden in T-Village.

Banno’s soul however hovers over Surat station,

waiting for the Delhi-bound August Kranti

that will take Dhanno, her cousins and her friends away on their 12-day trek,

and Banno’s soul wants to lie down on the floor of Platform no. 2 or 1,

and trash its hands and feet,

and cry hysterically, “Dhanno, don’t go, don’t go.”

All these years, Banno didn’t mind,

almost welcomed Dhanno’s holidays with her aunts or cousins,

it gave her some relief from Mummy-dom.

But now, Banno’s soul cannot care less about being a wise, kind mother,

letting her little bird fly and all that.

All it wants to do is cling, and cling.

And cling.

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