The eventide azure of late Autumn
Enveloped those sparkling waves of the Bay of Bengal.
Tides that advanced the Marina with a ruthless celerity
Mutating my sand house to grains of sand
So nonchalantly it departed !
As I went searching for the destination of the departed tide,
A pristine one approached to play and wet my feet.
Without a voice of grievance,
I whimsically participated in the game.
Now my gaze shifted to the wooden basket
Carried by the beautiful dark manus.
That contained their traditional ‘Gajra’
Wreathed with the fragrance of ‘Rajnigandha’.
I bought one in exchange of a twenty rupee note
Knowing not how to adorn them in my lock of hair!
Palming the fair florets, my mind reverted to the memory lane,
To reminisce the bygone intoxicating commemorations.
Splintering my chain of thoughts,
A lassie proceeded and blended my hair with the floral fragrance!
I failed to decipher the language she uttered,
But I flourished in fathoming her language of love and cordiality.
