At times, it is those cruel Jasmines
And on other days, bright cotton Sarees
They drag my escaped yesterdays to
Warm cemeted rooftops laden
with silk-cotton mattresses
Those jasmine heart-tugs then
print bold amaryllis on bedspreads
And smear ochre evenings with kohl
Dissolving into a meteor strewn night
Cotton Sarees drench raw mangoes
in a chilli brush, draw dusk's grandiose paintings on hot
rice canvasses
cooking up ethereal feasts for unreal gods
Imagination locks memory's room
But my yesterdays escape
as sapid smells do from time's
ancient kitchens: hungry, unheeded.
Until he returns, I will wait
In this star-jasmine alcove
With his mango pickle stains
on my cool cotton Saree
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