ode to autumn

autumn is here, ripe and mellow. the sun's rays are tempered gently through the soft, fluffy clouds that fill the sky. the evenings are cool and inviting. there is a slight nip in the air, reminding one of the approaching winter. the trees smell faintly of blooming flowers, whose names elude me. the half-eaten moon stands lonely against the raven coloured night. the boxed-in houses stand silhouetted against the faintly-visible twinkling stars. the scaffolding of the pujo pandals lie half-erected in the public parks. there is a quiet clam, a general sense of peace. durga pujo will be celebrated in a few weeks. calcutta, the city of eternal return will be amok with festivities. i will be here, walking these vague streets, unable to return. trailing me everywhere is this sinking feeling of melancholy and of bidding adieu. the only hope of a welcome is the warm winter of reunited lovers.