If you had come for the festival, I would have worn my finest, joined the colors and revelry, danced through the neighborhood's joy.
Had you come this time, I would have sung Rabindra songs, with trembling eyes would have gazed at you once more. I would have held you closer with all my strength, hidden you against my heart, showered you with tenderness. I would have shown you off, told them all, "Here is my beloved!"— the one who loved me so deeply, made me part of their very being!
But you didn't come here, you left, drawn to something new. I remain scattered here and there, alone, gathering your memories, storing them in my kohl box. On Eid, a phone call or even a small message perhaps... No, never mind—you stay well in your own way...!
I will learn to accept this someday, just like this, will burn silently, alone in my heart's fever. No, I won't live in any more waiting— I accept it: your indifference has won!