The shiny green grasses were wet due to the delayed monsoon. I could see a goalpost waiting in vain. The taste of the lemon tea got mixed with the smoke. The Chatim tree was inviting us to sit under it and watch the sky through its foliage. But to avoid the mud, we sat on the edge of the road. And… words were coming out. Some words became a lost melody in a borrowed mouth-organ. Some words were transformed into songs. Even more words were entrapped within us. Those failed to overcome the ‘should I’ dilemmas got lost paving way to an introspecting night- another insomniac night.
The trees turned into silhouettes. The cars passing down the road on the other side of the field became just a moving array of headlights. We moved away.
3 comments:
The flow in your writing is beautiful, much like a dream half memorized... the gaps filled with flashes of remembrance.
The elegant evening that it was, it will be remembered for overcast sky, the procrastination....
lekhatay odvut ekta softness roychhe....khub halka...flowing...n expression ta darun...
i couldn't agree more with to_reality...its like a phantasmagoria of long lost of dreams...threaded together with the silver threads of memory...very wistful.. n very beautiful in a elusive kinda way...
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