The smell of the incense from that
factory on the way to our old house is still as intense. And so familiar, that
it hits you.
The road at this hour with canopy of trees is still as beautiful. The March flowers have overstayed. And they look as inviting as ever.
That house where you once lived was
all dark. There was fresh paint but it lacked life.
Someone else lives in "our" house now. The windows that you always wanted to shut, was wide open. The way I liked. Hall Lights were on. The way we never liked.
The dogs haven't decreased in number.
Mysteriously, they haven't increased either. They were getting friendly.
Strange, we never liked them
The hawker near the auto stand en route the ring road, where we used to frequent for midnight tea was there tonight. I didn't buy. He nodded
Those familiar roads, the doors of the shops, they all seemed happy to see me. They also seemed to question, why alone, where is he?
The ground, yes, that ground where you confessed your betrayal, around the same time as now, but a different night, still looks soulless.
Everything is same. Yet, everything has changed. We were part of it once. What happened to "us" and the "forever" plans !
The lump in my throat. What was that for? Was it for the house, roads, doors, the tea vendor, the dogs, the canopy, the flowers? Or for us?
I went back to the incense factory. To get a whiff. To carry the scent home. You used to smell of it. All the time.
I bought your scent home.
