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Xewali

I smell Xewali as I silently sneak in the misty evening.
October it is, the dusk settling in through timid flakes.
The dotted white and saffron streaks brighten the night sky.
The smell of xewali pierces the evening gloom
And take me in a roller coaster ride.
I see a girl with a missing tooth carefully bending to the ground
She picks xewalis each morning to adorn her grandma's hair
How happy, how carefree her life seems
A blackening cloud drip drops out of a weeping sky.
I get jolted back.
Back to the ground,
Back to this October gloom,
But, the smell of xewalis linger as I move back.

Comments

  1. Pranju chakrapani11 October 2017 at 03:57

    Memories are a means of time travel. That's the only thing that defies all the physics to give us a ride to our past. And it doesn't carry any butterfly effect which makes our return journey to the present a safe one.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sandeepa Agasthi11 October 2017 at 04:12

    Very true. So, it's like being etched to life through memories. Time flies but memories remain.

    ReplyDelete

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