The House with Green Windows

By Vandana Nair            

From the many homes I lived in,
this house has green windows.
Its three floors lie flat
like stone pebbles balancing on the ground
and window-like eyes
looking into the soul of every tree
at daybreak and dusk,
At night, the windows look inward, into me.

The roof is old,
wooden slats weathered to a grimy brown,
A hint of home resting
on a faded red brick wall.
In my imaginings,
the colour of soil blended with brewed,
orange-brown tea leaves—
mixed-by-hand manure of my grandfather’s rose-patch.

From every window
I see him lifting the trowel,
paying homage to every
dark-red rosa indica shrub in a terracotta planter,
“Desi gulaab,” he says,
“has the fragrance of atra and the tint of blood.”
I hear his voice in the daylight,
cajoling plants and children alike
I long to grow deep-red in the wilderness, but nothing holds,
All I wake up to see from the window is green.

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Born and raised in India, Vandana Nair loves to chronicle the ordinary by capturing joy, humour, and unsentimental hope across her journals, stories, and everyday spaces.

Having lived in three countries in over twenty years, her movements have helped her extract material for her art through lived experiences of universal themes that resonate across cultures. The people and places that have held her attention have found their way into her work, which explores gender, class, and linguistic diversity. A graduate of the Rainier Writing Workshop, she lives in Redmond, Washington. 

Her novella, The Wedding, is a forthcoming release from Santa Fe Writer’s Project in 2026.