Winter Paraphernalia
"Her fragrance preceded her. Khus in the summers, Mitti in the rains, Shamamatul in the winters.." Whiffs of naphthalene and filter coffee for evenings in the city, and tales of glorious train rides across Birbhum, Ghatshila, and Hoogly- memories of another time. Shortbread cookies in a yellow tin for a stay at the forest bungalow, jack-o-lanterns, and imperfect chord progressions on my first guitar. Occasionally she would remind me that I had still not perfected my use of diacritical marks and that she had secured a ticket for the 7:35 next morning. That soon? Thesis submissions, approaching deadlines, and detestable citations were carefully exempted from conversations- meaningless trivia for a bi-monthly meetup. November brought with it cheerless days of peeling oranges swathed in linen blankets, uncomfortable naps on the subway, and coming home to the harsh neon of the Adobe pdf highlighter. The sun-soaked rooms and their wooden shelves looked glorious at high noon but