Muri-Makha -Pherey-Asha

Conversations end with half nibbled canapés, 
Strewn all across the coffee tables 
Signs of half hearted consumptions 
In a space where food matters the least 
And discourses the most 
Of attempting expected, yet redundant discourses
Including grief and distress;
Somehow, condolences come in strangely familiar forms of…
Conveying what a man he was!
Or, things never being the same without him.
Worst is the 'this too shall pass' bit
When of course, time shrouds grief,
Delegitimizes desires,
Throttles thirst.
Only the stubborn strong knots of longing 
Wait for the whiff, the blue and the canvas footwear
To dash through the door 
Smashing obits and ahareys 
Along with the curses of consolation 
To indulge in a bowl of mochmocha-muri-chanachur mix.
He's here this minute.
Wiping his muri-makha hands in the pockets of his kurta.
I can see him; you can't.

Rubana Huq is a poet and writer. She is also the Managing Director of Mohammadi Group.