3:17 to Adulthood – Delhi Poetry Slam

3:17 to Adulthood

Kashish Singh

It rained the morning I was meant to leave.
 That kind of rain that sinks into your thoughts
 before your clothes.
 The kind that feels like a warning,
 "you are not ready for this"
 
 But I had to.
 Not to prove anything 
 just to return home
 after giving the exam
 that had already drained
 the strength I didn’t know I had.
 
 It was my first time traveling alone.
 No one beside me.
 No hand reaching out at crossings.
 No voice telling me, “You’ll be fine.”
 
 I’ve never liked growing up.
 Never liked transitions.
 I get attached to everything 
 to routines,
 to voices,
 to the comfort of being held.
 
 As a child,
 my parents held my hands while crossing roads.
 Now, I was dragging two bags
 across train platforms,
 rain falling in sheets,
 time slipping like wet paper.
 
 I couldn’t find the ticket counter.
 I was starving, dizzy 
 ready to give up.
 Then a train appeared
 right where I stood.
 Like the universe paused
 just long enough
 to offer a way out.

It wasn’t my train.
 But I was too tired to question it.
 I stepped in,
 held onto the seat like a prayer.
 
 When the TT came,
 I offered the wrong ticket,
 and silence.
 He handed me a fine 
 as if growing up
 had a price,
 and no one
 was exempt.
 
 That train led me to Howrah.
 A city that didn’t wait.
 Crowds pressed in
 like waves without names.
 No space to hesitate,
 no one to ask.
 
 And still 
 I crossed the roads
 my mother once held my hand for.
 I found the bus,
 held tighter to myself
 than the handles.
 
 I reached the airport at 3:17.
 Check-in closed at 3:20.
 The girl who once waited
 for others to lead
 now handed over her bag,
 quiet and shaking,
 but just in time.
 
 That boarding pass
 felt like a miracle.
 Like someone saying,
 “You made it. Not just here but through.”

 And when the plane rose
 above the clouds,
 everything below
 faded.
 the soaked sleeves,
 the tasteless meals,
 the ache in my arms
 from carrying too much alone.
 
 Above the clouds,
 there was no noise.
 Just sky 
 and the quiet company
 of someone I hadn’t met before,
 myself
 
 
 I remembered my parents 
 the worry in their voices,
 the hope in their eyes.
 And when I reached home,
 they smiled
 like I had done
 something impossible.
 
 And maybe I had.
 
 Maybe I left as a girl
 always looking for a hand to hold,
 and came back
 as someone
 who finally knew
 how to cross the road
 on her own.


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