January 29 was a Friday.
It was nine years in the making, with a twenty-minute prelude before your declared rebirth…
with silent wishes,
with sincere prayers,
with long and never ending journey with the stars,
wit interlaced fingers (never thought they’d perfectly fit mine),
with tiny steps under the joyful sun,
with fireworks above our head,
with the smell of incense in the air we breathe,
with your testimonies midst the cold crisp wind,
with events slowly unfolding as the moon changed its phase.. silent and surreal.
January 29 was a Friday. It is nothing but a memory of how things began. In six to seven years, January 29 will be a Friday once more. But it will never be the same Friday again.