At sixteen, I stumbled,
eyes half-closed to the world,
mistaking shadows for truths,
and whispers for guidance.

My heart was restless,
my mind untamed,
drifting through the tide of what I did not know.
And now I see—
India stretches, awakening,
shaking off the sleep of centuries,
her eyes wide, taking in the light,
learning what I once could not.

The mistakes I made,
the fears I carried,
the blindness of youth—
they hum softly in her streets,
in her voices, in her rising.

What I could not see alone,
she now sees together,
and in her clarity, I find my echo,
the quiet whisper of growth,
the shared rhythm of becoming.