he repeated the word again. you would think he's sick and tired of it already having spent an entire month repeating the same word again and again. while driving, dining, before hitting the bed, before waking up, (oh yes! in his sleep even). 'when?'.

are the butterflies still there? singing? i know they don't sing silly, i'm making a joke, ha ha, get it? no? forget about it, it wasn't funny anyway.

laden with the fallen leaves in fall, and shadows of leaves in summer. the gray, old sidewalk? my footsteps on it in sepia light of the evening sun. it was wet with the november rain, there was earthy smell in the air, mixed with smell of evening tea coming from some kichen windows, and other assorted smells of fall. there were red colored fallen leaves. yellow too yellow too yellow too. yes, a yellow one too.

rains always make him recall the peacocks. they lived for a few months in a rented house when he was some 2 year old. there was a large open ground behind it. there were peacocks there in the evenings. they sang and danced sometimes. he shouldn't even remember but there was this old lady next door, every other time she'll come across in the market or someplace else and call him 'more-bachchaa', 'peacock-child'. why 'peacock-child'? there were peacocks, you liked them, you clapped your hands you were so happy. there were peacocks?

they are still there. they fly and sing and dance. yes true honest true really. they dance to bring the rain.

'come back home amelie, the mornings don't start, the birds don't sing without you. your absence haunts me'. scribbly writing, moist words, handmade paper. third-world handwriting. he folds it and adds to the stack of other unsent letters. not yet. not yet. 'when'? not yet.

and the "remember me"s keep echoing. such a simple request, so full of sorrow ... (isn't it? isn't it full of sorrow? it is right?) like a tiny check box on login pages we choose them on people. "remember me". he wants to be remembered too. he wants you to notice when he's not around. he wants you to wonder what happened to him. worry it's something bad, hope it's not ...

do they miss me? the pigeons?

what pigeons? you mean peacocks. of course they do. how can someone not miss you?

no no, pigeons! thepigeonsthepigeonsthepigeons. do the pigeons miss me? and fireflies?

not yet.


just not yet.