My both hands got dipped inside the pockets of trouser I wore–
As the wind gathered momentum and became a gust one from soft mild one.
My hair got scrambled, (though) it was already, making the need for combing–
Which I did at that moment with my slender fingers–an unsuccessful attempt.
As I passed the corner of the building, the wind hit me with a strong blow.
Hawa Mahal–she had named that corner when we used to talk after lunch–
Over the phone; I don’t want to remember her and its true these days.
I went to the tea stall and the acquainted owner passed me Classic–
Before I could say anything; I lit the cigarette and move aside–
Where there’s no colleagues; as the bluish gray smoke swirled up and get disarranged
In the wind, a question, rather few, arises out out of the heaps of memoirs–
Which I wanted to give away; the love we shared will be had or have…
The moment we spend will be in is or was or something abstract–that’s never existed…
Was I your wishes and needs that your adolescence age need…
I’m holding on you for so long when there’s no return…but, why…why I can’t let you go…
(’cause) The probable reason I could find at the moment, as the winter gust whispered,–
Through loving you I had found a way to escape from the solitariness,–
That, I was living in–I was still want to (even) when you were there–
And (knowing that) you still had loved me…or was it a falsehood…just flow of time…
As my one hand get dipped in the limited depth of the pocket of the trouser I wore–
And another hand up on my chin, with cigarette on my lips, surrounded in smokes–
I hover around with these and few more questions as I accept the lose,–
As I accept we are strangers now, and, not in the time that’s turning to yellow–
Like the leaves that are falling and flying around me, at the moment, at the winter gust…