This poem was first published in Asian Signature Magazine.
Sitting on the verandah at dusk
I count the curling crisp brown leaves on a tree
and feel the autumn trailing in my bones,
a lemon scented breeze stirs my memories…
clusters of saptparni blooms crumbling in my hands,
their scent rising from the white carpeted pavements ,
intoxicating the night above them,
a smell of winter – nostalgia – childhood, love,
adolescence, youth, late night cigarette sessions
around makeshift fires on the terrace,
old monk, spliffs, long drives,
and your breath against mine.
There is more to it that lingers on in Lutyen’s Delhi
memories of a time I can’t forget.