Memories

Our old hang-out has changed and a lot of people have owned it once we left the place. The small details- a few dry fallen leaves scattered by wind across the steps, the towering torch, the yellow flowers that form a bed across the wide lawns, the bright blue sky that peeps between the trees, lovers who speak and fall silent every other second- still matter.

You and I have lost this sacred space the day when our love became bitter and sad than the joy it was to us every day. For every day, the first waking thought was always about the moment that I will meet you later in the day. Sick leaves, holidays and hartals were like hell; for a day to be real and alive it needed you and your loving support.

The purple flowers that grew where we used to sit and talk still enchant many lovers to pick them up as gifts for their beloved. Our paths are strewn with fallen leaves from that old tree that bears a nameplate on its neck and has borne many seasons in our absence. Years of absence has sprouted new life around it.

Now you and I are no more careless wanderers who thought of nothing but each other. You are an invisible onlooker in my life; one whom I see yet do not recognize. You listen to me talk to others; never wanting a word for yourself; taking a strange pleasure in noting how I have changed beyond recognition. You travel around for days wondering why you come back to the same place and the same person who wounded your heart.