I imagine myself, running from the sidewalk, all the way, on the sand, to the waves and by the time I reach, I’m overwhelmed with emotions – happiness, relief, pent-up sadness- and tears form. But those tears make me feel alive. Those tears are a privilege.

I imagine, when I feel the water touch my feet, ever so slightly, and I’ll think of all those days when I couldn’t fathom entering muthassi’s room without washing my hands and feet. I was afraid for her. Yet here I stand, with glee over salty water washing away the sand from underneath me. The glee is a privilege.

I imagine, when I finally feel the warm sunshine on my face, I’ll smile. I’ll think about the days where I longed to feel the scorching sun rays on my face, just for a little while to ward off the anxiety and stress the dark rooms made me feel. Now here I am, sweating profusely, washing away the sunscreen I had put on. The sunscreen is a privilege.

I imagine when this is all over, life will be the same. Birds will chirp, cars will honk, deadlines will be met, exams will be written. I imagine the only difference to be that the hugs will be longer, the theatres will run housefull, social media traffic will reduce, plane traffic will double up, the playgrounds will hear giggles, libraries, restaurants, cafes, markets, streets, every place will be full and our houses will be empty and I imagine everyone is well, healthy and happy. Imagination is a privilege.


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