# The Smell of Burning <p>আগুন জ্বলে না, জ্বলে শুধু একটা গন্ধ।<br> রাত জেগে থাকা মানুষের মতো গন্ধ।<br> কিংবা মৃত্যুর আগে প্রেমিকার চুলের গন্ধ।</p> <p>যা কখনো ধুয়ে ফেলা যায় না।<br> যা হাতের মুঠোয় থেকে যায়<br> বছরের পর বছর, দিনের পর দিন।</p> <p>সকালে ওঠা মানে সেই গন্ধের সাথে জেগে ওঠা।<br> কফি খাওয়া মানে তার মধ্যে আগুনের স্বাদ পাওয়া।<br> প্রিয়জনকে আলিঙ্গন করা মানে তাকে দূরে ঠেলে দেওয়া।</p> <p>কারণ আমি জানি, আমার শরীর একটি জ্বলন্ত ঘর।<br> এবং সেই ঘরের ছাই<br> তার কাপড়ে লাগবে।</p> <p>তাই আমি রাতের অন্ধকারে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকি।<br> একা, ঠান্ডা।<br> আগুনের গন্ধ নিয়ে জেগে থাকি।</p> Fire doesn't burn—only the smell burns.<br> The smell of a person kept awake by night.<br> Or a lover's hair before death. What can never be washed away.<br> What stays in the grip of your hand<br> year after year, day after day. Waking in the morning means waking with that smell.<br> Drinking coffee means tasting fire in it.<br> Holding the one you love means pushing them away. Because I know my body is a burning house.<br> And the ash from that house<br> will cling to their clothes. So I stand in the dark of night.<br> Alone, cold.<br> Awake with the smell of fire.

People drift away, but habit stays behind. Pride breaks, yet unseen tears collected over time won't be wiped clean. Deep within, someone silent waits—burning themselves, keeping anguish alive even in ash.

Love burns, yet I leave my heart mortgaged to it—because it knows no logic. Neglect is not the sound of falling leaves, but the agony of roots being torn from earth.

Those who dwell in the heart wound most deeply. I said, my heart is yours—yet you hammered nails into that same heart, left me burned ash in its place. Quietly I burn myself to perfume you. Let the night keep me awake, let it burn me as it will—may that scar mark itself like a birthmark, permanent and mine.

I am stone. A strange habit—even spurned, I keep silent room for you within my chest. No sound, no blood spilled, no one knows—only an ocean of love inside me dries. Because when love breaks, people weep; when trust breaks, people go silent.

Mad with fear of losing you, I wept. That unbearable memory will haunt me always—that night, alone, sitting in soundless dark. Only from fear of losing you; not just tears—the soul's piercing cry. Each tear was my heart's hemorrhage.

That day I understood: you are my oxygen for living. How selfless, how dispassionate was the love I gave. I wept—I'm not ashamed, because that burning proves how deeply I loved. I went on weeping like a madwoman for months, afraid of losing someone.

There's a terrible storm here now. At times like this, one wants to hold someone close—but you're home, bringing joy to everyone. I am alone. My Eid is gone—just cooking, feeding guests. Since marriage, I've never worn new clothes on Eid. My sisters give them, my brother-in-law—yet none have ever been able to dress me in them.

You will give me something, a small whim, a trifle! I know you won't—what's the use of saying? On this rain-soaked night you'll come—if not in truth then in dreams, surely you'll come, fill me with tenderness. I wait for you—come, I beg you!

Beloved, come to me tonight. Wherever your eyes can see, I am there. Come—let me die once, again and again, beloved. Call me soundlessly, touch me so deeply—may this darkness break, beloved.

Behind body and mind, you live, you live. Come, love me, turn me inside-out—all of me searches for you! Beloved, come to me tonight...