Reminiscence

In you,

morning smells like ragas.

sun smiling soft on my eyes,

breeze cold bringing my soul back to life.

In you,

afternoon sounds like tanpura drone

intoxicating and indelible.

mooing me to sleep.

In you,

evening means incense sticks, 

mud lamps, burning coconut coir, 

and prayer bells.

In you,

nights tastes like silence,

flowing quietly like a river,

slowly burning like ember

like firefiles in power cuts.