the dead rose

the shadow of your smile
reminds me of the hopeful rose that
you abandoned on a cantonment road
you left it there to avoid a mishap at your home
Ha-ha! but your neighbour, Parul Aunty, saw you holding me close
she told your mother,
“Aajkal ki ladkiyan ko kuch jyada azaadi mili,
sambhal lo!
Kahi hath se nikal na jaaye!”

the shadow of your smile
reminds me of the dying rose that
i collected, the next day, on my way
to school,
and
tucked it
in a poetry book
it tainted pages 96 and 69

the shadow of your smile
reminds me of the fresh rose that
i’d bought from a florist
misting the beautiful rose with cheap perfume,
he’d said, “Bhabhi ji ko pasand aayega!”
i’d noticed his gutkha-stained teeth

the shadow of your smile
reminds me of the dried rose
that i took out from the poetry book
i had to give that book to someone
because you were gone

the smile of your shadow
reminds me of whiskey
that day, i drank two sobered roses
drunk dialing could bring more pain
i came to know later

the shadow of your smile
reminds me of the dead rose that
i burnt one chilling october night
i realised - it was time to let it go
i realised - the dead rose used to remind me of
the shadow of your smile
and for the last time,
i saw your smile in the silhouette of burning flames

~redhya

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