Stranger

 

you may never ask me over
for tea, again,
you may not offer a second serve
of your lip-smacking biryani,
you may not let your pallu
wipe my tears,
you may never hold my hand
tightly,
and not let go, again,
you may not let me
lean against your shoulders,
or have your tired head
rest on my chest,
but don't stop me
from touching my dreams,
a tad bit every day

you may not want to tell me
how much my presence
meant to you,
you may not wait for my calls,
any more,
you may not ask
if i had my medicines,
you may not ask
how i spent those years,
or let me know
how tough they were there,
you may not know
if i slept at all,
and not tell,
how your nights never ended,
and how you kept up all night,
you don't know
how deeply you were missed,
nor, will i ever hear
how badly i was either,
but don't deprive me
of the few moments of life,
of the doting,
subtle fondness and caring,
that i missed all these years,
and that has now become a habit
over the last few evenings,
don't deprive yourself
of the warmth,
so what if you soak in it,
quietly,
hugging your pillow,
warm with tears,
a little bit, every night

we may not get
to meet again,
though i dream your craving to,
maybe you silently pray for, as well,
you may not
rush to see me ever,
not even when i am not around,
to be pained by that,
but don't call me a stranger,
for there were times, 
when the stranger
meant hope and sunshine,
for even now,
the stranger
still dies to see you smile,
for, his heart has always
beat just for you,
for, even your heart skips
a beat for him, even now
for strangers sometimes
leave footprints on the sands
that tides and time fail to wash away,
for strangers sometimes
touch your soul,
in ways that loved ones do not!



© sashikant mohanty