Almost like the left over biryani that you were to eat
for lunch that day after your tests
Salinger's unpublished writes
Dhrubo Mukherjee's epic gaffe at our convocation
The words of 'Ahom' somewhere buried near Silchur
A vague morning dream
Succharita 'The beautiful bombshell' who died in a road rage
The night we drank Jack Daniels and passed out, for a whole day
Palestinian people and their hunger
Video Cassette players and single screen theaters
The almost half read 'Far from the maddening crowd'
somewhere in the cup boards of ekdalia road, your old home
The way you looked at me during Prof. Bose's boring lectures
The lost Atlantis of our imagination
The broken button from your shirt that stuck to my kurta
while we had that botched up kiss underneath Mashima's home
and our names written together in the beach of Digha
Would we forget everything that way, Sayan.
What of our shared memories
would that be forgotten too?