gleaming white horses and armour that shines

Recently I had this really bad bout of homesickness. Yes, I live with my parents at home. But somehow, I miss *Dilli*, and I call it home. No, I don’t know all the gullies of Chandini Chowk, and I have never ever been to Karol Bagh. But Delhi feels like Home. I think it’s the people.

So, I called one of my favouritest people up. And realised that I wasn’t the only disillusioned soul.
She exclaimed in her normal over-dramatic voice: “ Rosh, yaar, I give up. I’ve had enough. Boys are such ass-holes.”

Me: “Hm. Agreed. Calm down.”

Then she said some pretty obscene things about the species (bolstered by my enthusiastic approval).
I smiled to myself and told her, “Let me hear you say this when it comes to your handsome knight atop the prettiest white horse.”

She shattered my dream and said, “There are no knights.”

But I believe in *metamorphosis*. Hopeful, that.