Come to my garden.
The one where the roses open in the silence of the night.
The one where my secret sorrows gently wash away the dust from the path,
so that your feet may step onto it.
The garden where tears also water the roses
– the ones that open in the silence of the night.
You will feel your sorrows leave you,
just like the dust on the path.
near the roses that open in the silence of the night.
Please let me stay in the garden.
Please let the fountain sing.
The water is made of my tears,
the ones that make the flowers bloom.
In the middle of the night, I come out of the house with a soft squeak of the door. The scent of the garden greets me — the one that only comes out at night, a mix of jasmine and lime, transporting me to the ancient gardens of the Mughal Court.
The wet grass feels soft under my feet. My eyes look for the lamp, up there in the sky. But the moon is gone until tomorrow and I have no matches. The light of my heart’s flame does not reach that far.
I walk and I stumble on the basket. The one you left behind. The one filled with pieces of ribbon of multiple colours. All the ribbons are tied in knots. It will take me a long time to undo them, just like the ones you left in my heart.