Sharat on the Motorway

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We travel on a motorway,

But for a moment, the world pauses

A cluster of Kash Phool passes by

And there is that strange sense of warmth

That runs up the spine,

As the eyes turn heavy

 

What happened? You ask

I stay quiet – And silently realise

Autumn is here, it is obvious -

The season of gold

But within, it is not Autumn

It is Shorot that calls from afar

 

For it is not the weather,

Not even the grass

But the distant roll of dhak,

Mahalaya, a baritone voice on the radio

And five days of magic that once held a city together

Not a festival, but a part of life

 

I suddenly feel old

Not with age, but with time

And the stretch of space that comes from displacement

What happened? You ask again

Nothing, I reply, just remembered a friend

I haven’t met for many years now… 


12th April, 2026

Based on a trip to the Central Coast around Easter


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