11 years ago, this day, I lost him. This poem is dedicated to him.
Fragrances stay, though he is gone.
I smell him so often at dusk and dawn.
I smell him in the milk and the burfi and jalebi,
I smell him in bhallas, in kheer, the ganga? yes, may be.
And now I smell him in me.
The smell that took me to my childhood in a flash flight.
That 'only-his' smell of body in sweaty summer night,
When frightened by a scary movie,
For months I could not sleep,
Scared that the ghosts in my bed shall creep
for months I slept wrapped in his mighty arms,
Sheltered from the vampire and all her charms.
His everlasting absence is a fact I can't resist,
Yes, he is gone but his fragrances persist.
Fragrances stay, though he is gone.
I smell him so often at dusk and dawn.
I smell him in the milk and the burfi and jalebi,
I smell him in bhallas, in kheer, the ganga? yes, may be.
And now I smell him in me.
The smell that took me to my childhood in a flash flight.
That 'only-his' smell of body in sweaty summer night,
When frightened by a scary movie,
For months I could not sleep,
Scared that the ghosts in my bed shall creep
for months I slept wrapped in his mighty arms,
Sheltered from the vampire and all her charms.
His everlasting absence is a fact I can't resist,
Yes, he is gone but his fragrances persist.
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