I take my coffee to sit by the well
in the shade of its steps
while she goes looking for something to wear
There I see two young boys rolling a joint
I secretly take a video to send to
some friends, some old lover
For a while, I look elsewhere
at the lives of the hundreds of well fish
at the shiny new Nikes of the couple taking pictures in front of us
at the stringy slippery moss on the steps -
the patterns it made, where it grew,
and where it was carried to to start life anew
I look back over to the boy rolling the joint.
he has the filter in place,
he is getting ready to lick the paper
he catches my eye and says "नमस्ते"¹ with a smirk,
eliciting a knowing "नमस्ते"¹ from me
A while longer passes, I look around
at the school children in the corner
getting ready for a swim between classes
at the guy with the Nikes from earlier -
he has reached the mossiest steps
at the bottom of the well
The boys think he will surely fall in
They are beaming at me as I meet their gaze
Hot smoke rising from their cool faces,
their cherried joint
"क्या फ़ूक रहे हो?"², I ask
"हरियाली"³, they reply
"कहाँ से आती है?"⁴
"ऊपर से!"⁵, they laugh
"पंजाब?"⁶, I enquire
They nod, they offer, I hesitate, I accept
A small hit, a small cough, a small sip of coffee,
a little bit of heaven
Bonded through smoke and shade, we talk a while about
the patterns we made, where we grew,
and where we were carried to to start life anew
Translations
1: Namaste
2: What are you smoking?
3: Greenery
4: Where does it come from?
5: From above!
6: Punjab?