Gullak

It was a pretty violet frock

with flowers printed in white

the petals bloomed with love

of ma and bapu by my side.

I frolicked and frolicked

all day long sleeping at night

snoring peacefully by their side.

They had gifted me the frock

dazzling in violet white on the

morning of my eighth birthday

when I saw life through rose

colored glasses beaming with light.

Ma had smeared a tika on my forehead

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blessing me with all she had while

bapu took me that day on a bicycle ride.

He had bought a week ago the cycle

with all his savings cocooned by his

round gullak dyed in pink-white.

"Bitiya, saekil pe ghumenge hum jald hi"-

my ears had been accustomed to

hearing all that while so that I didn't have

to go to school puffing across a mile.

The violet frock has lost its smile

the bicycle has forgotten its flight

but a gullak is all I have today

with memories clinking inside.