Across communities, after winter, there’s bonfire, Bhogi and Lhori,
Customary traditions, all ancient and hoary.
Old things are burnt and give up their ghost-
(Only now, many people prefer to compost!)
But though my thought processing and retrieval turn slow,
I shall hoard my old memories and never let go.
I cherish my children’s prattle, my grandkids’ baby-talk;
Bedtime songs and stories in a long gone winter dark.
I have junked my old curtains to let the fresh breezes blow,
But old photo albums I shall never let go!
If my experiences and memories I lose or revoke
I’ll become just a spire of insubstantial smoke!