By Neha Mediratta Chaudhuri
lingering fragrance of weathered skin on dishevelled pillows
the tang of medicine bottles on the side table
smouldering pipe curling smoke toward the low ceiling
an unfinished letter, a half wrapped gift
a teak table, smooth and dark; heavy with the memory
of quiet camaraderie flanked by overworked arms and stained books
a couch deteriorated to lodge the shadow of his absent torso
frayed brown slippers beside the bed
soft cotton shirts that yielded the scent of Old Spice
moth eaten song lyrics and personal versions of singing them
a dim trail of wine, roasted chicken and poetry evenings
a black leather wallet with 20 rupees
an old steel watch, chipped at the corners
photographs of college pranks
marriage kids and grandkids
teetering emails odd smses
evidences of the era past
the finality of a goodbye
How beautiful. How vivid. Somany emotions wrapped in those words. Neha truly knows how to weave her art beautifully together seamlessly, evoking images and excerpts from ones own life as they read through those lines…
This poem would resonate with anyone familiar with anyone familiar with love and loss. I lost my father more than decade ago I read this and relieved that bittertang of oranges and my baba again