And then to soothe the battered soul
And then with a plea for caress like a child
With the passion of sixteen year old
With hope and amour in her eyes she smiled
The sky starts crying and I am too,
Thinking of how I’m missing you.
I miss your hugs and gentle touch,
Unspoken words showing you care how much.
I cherish the way you kiss me and make me feel,
Waiting for you, yet I feel all your touches as real.
Now as I look up at the dark clouds above,
I’m thinking of you, and I think I’m still in love.
My hair is wet, my feet are wet,
I couldn’t be much wetter.
I fell into a river once
Poyla Boishakh (Bengali New Year), and it rained. Brishti came to me, my year is made. I know whatever happens, she will be with me this time. While coming back, I absorbed her, and then in auto I started humming, first – “Bristi Bristi Bristi, se je kon oporup shrishti…”; and then as the rain intensified, another one in Bengali, and this time in full volume – “Ay bristi jhepe, chal debo mepe…” The Auto driver either was fultu annoyed or took me for a madman. Its OK, as there’s few in this world who can match my madness…