The two held hands,
tight,
in Basantapur, by the temples,
as they watched the Sun set,
behind the hills.
He said casually,
feminism is selfish.
Peopleism is where it's
really at.
No,
she said, I don't think so.
And lo,
what a barrage of words it provoked! ,
him trying to make his point.
And later
that night,
they said goodbye
to one another.
On his way back,
He was afresh
with sweet memories of the
sunset.
And of the hands
that were held.
On hers, she walked
With fear
And steps brisk
on the alley
chosen deliberately
that would get her
the fewest
catcalls.
Stolen from a poem by a friend.
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