Green is the colour of memory specked
with shades of yellow grey
that walks along the twisted road
leading to the weeded lake
Choked by shallow depth and silent land
murmuring in watery pain
A rotten leaf fallen from a parched tree
is carried to cold eternity
frog croaks its last rites on the winding road
littered with memory
chains my cold feet with tired resignation.
Red is the colour of memory
That is perched on that twig
Where the bats offer blood
to the dazed ripe fruits
that fall dazed to the ground
drunk on the blood-wine
tender complexion bruised with soft wounds.
Grey is the colour of memory
That lies below the grey clouds,
Reflected in the somber concrete
Gravel skinned boiled in tar
Heat locked in its heart and the joints of my knees.
Yellow is the colour of memory
That springs from the stooped street light
Bitten by moths, stung by butterflies,
Waging a lonely battle against the dark night
The night blares yellow from the one eyed car
and strikes my nervous eyes in the dark
Yellow reminds me of the lilies
That once grew on my father’s grave.
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Huzaifa Pandit teaches literature at the Islamic university of science and technology, kashmir
