Crossing a road in Banglore

Our eyes meet for a split second.

And that’s all it takes.

Our battles become one.

We struggle to cover the same ground.

We raise our muted battle cry together as we charge in unison against the enemy.

We run.

And before I know it, the battle has been won.

I turn to cast a last glance at you. But you are gone.

There is no celebration to this victory.

There is no acknowledgement, perhaps not even a slight memory, of the struggle that was ours.

You walk on.

I reluctantly move on too.