Here I lay on my bed; filled with worries and thoughts up to the head;
An amorphous future lies ahead, filled with instances of the effervescent and the rancid.
Time passes by like fleeting images, wrapped in memories sweet and sour;
So many things left untouched, even more which lacked desire;
‘Coz the month is November, the month of nostalgia-
So much time spent together, forging bonds in the fire of trust;
House of cards facing the gust,
It will be difficult to say goodbye, tears rendered invisible under the black sky.
Cross your heart and zip your lip, swear oath on a promise you’ll keep;
Never to kill me in your memories,
For the month is November, the month of promises.
Who knows whether we’ll meet again? Who knows what’ll happen next?
We’ll travel the roads we’re destined to, there’s no reason being vexed.
This is the time to meet the world, to break open the chrysalis of misunderstanding,
Newer bonds will be formed, but it’s hard to tell if they’ll be forged by the trusted fire;
‘Coz the month is November, the month of hope.
As the day for departure arrives, I cling on to what is left;
And cherish every moment; good or bad,
With a heart of lead and salt in my eye, I try to ignore the urge to cry…
For the month is November, the month of sorrow.
Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra (guest)