Someone asked her ‘so where do you belong to’ and she looked puzzled,
For the entire country was her home and she belonged to the whole of it.
To the place she was born at- in the Military Hospital, where her dad was pursuing a course.



To the High mountains, he called field posting, which she visited occasionally
during her school vacations and played in the fresh snow with much delight.
She feasted on the ripe apricots and enjoyed butter tea sitting by the Bukhari.



She belonged to the far east, where she made friends with the first sunlight of the country.
She spoke to the sparkling waters of the mighty Brahmaputra and river Lohit became her pal,
The expansive tea gardens never had enough of her and always asked more of her.



She also belonged to the south, where she made lots of friends on her dad’s peace posting.
And to the colourful West where her mom had chosen to live while her dad served in field locations.
‘oh!! An army kid then you must be’, said the guy, for they are the ones who belong to everywhere and to nowhere.

 

They flow like water and waft in the air like the sweet spring fragrance,
They take in the culture of every place they go to, and call it their home till dad gets his new posting,
And with that they move again- To adapt to a new culture and to call it home.




 ©Aradhana Mishra