Creative Writing


I am the roots that grew where sari hems met England’s paved streets,
Probing deeper, deeper for life, hope and, one day, belonging.
I am the roots massaged with coconut oil and haldi paste by mother’s tired hands,
Easing a mind knotted with sleepless nights and jobless days.
I am fellow roots from distant lands intertwining in silent solidarity,
Pirouetting and waltzing under soil that dries in their presence.
I am the roots bursting under stifling tarmac and cracking the pavement into fractals,
Reminding marching boots to tread carefully.
I am the roots that anchor the young sapling against gale and storm,
A network of multitudes, old as the soil, strong as the bedrock we all rest upon.”

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