Udaya Tushara Sudanagunta

Evenings were simple,
a walk with my friend,
talking about life,
families, studies, and films.
silent strangers, yet known.

among them was an old couple.
he, around seventy-five,
in kurta-pyjama.
she, around seventy,
in pastel punjabi suits,
dupatta pinned neatly,
red bindi shining bright.

their silver-streaked hair,
soft and thin.
her braid was tied
with a bright rubber band.

they walked together,
calm and composed,
not a word exchanged.

they seemed content,
responsibilities fulfilled,
time and love shared.
old age looked graceful on them.
their absence was rare.

one ordinary day,
the same path,
the same chatter
of studies and careers.
there she was,
the same pastel suit,
the same pinned dupatta,
the same bright rubber band,
a calm expression.

no red bindi on her forehead.