On some mornings

On some mornings,
I stand by the window
Watch little kids go to school
And pretend like life is all right out there
Just outside the walls
Out there, is a life
Where I will be woken up at 6 am by my mother
Be dressed by her
She will once again comb my hair
Into a King Charles style
Then fry some pooris along with aloo jeera
And neatly pack into my steel tiffin
(She hated the ones made of plastic)
Then, we would walk down the stairs together
And stand at the stop
Where the school van would come
And take me away
While she stood there,
Already planning how to greet me
When I would come back in a few hours.
On some mornings,
I stand by the window
Watch little kids go to school
And pretend I am one,
But there's always someone who rings the bell
And says:
The day is over,
It's time to go home.