The heart is heavy

The old playful banter of paired mynahs on park benches is gone.
For many days now, young couples across college and university grounds don't speak with their eyes.
For many days, no timid lover has brushed aside his beloved's forehead hair to plant a gentle kiss.
For many days their hearts haven't been well, nor has mine.

Friends don't gather for adda in the canteen for many days now.
For many days there's been no squabbling over singara and samosa,
no sharing from one bowl of curry for many days.
For many days no guitars have strummed tunelessly in friends' circle-chatter,
and for many, many days no one has said "Hey buddy, what's up?"
and given a friend's back an affectionate thump on purpose!
My friends' hearts aren't well, nor is mine.

The boy who used to follow Shiuli secretly around street corners—
that boy hasn't seen Shiuli for many days now.
For many days Shiuli no longer walks down that path,
for many days Shiuli doesn't smile with quiet joy seeing him.
Both their hearts aren't well, nor is mine.

For many days the corner shop doesn't bustle with betel leaf and cigarette trade,
political smoke doesn't rise with the warmth of tea cups for many days.
For many, many days no one breaks into song together on college or university buses and trains!
For many days no one tumbles against another in the babbling laughter of chatter.
None of their hearts are well, nor is mine.

For many days the world doesn't laugh, no one crowds the flower shop at street corners.
For many days no bat-ball-stumps or football enters the playing field.
For many, many days I haven't touched that black mole on her cheek!
Truly no one's heart is well, not even mine!