Every once in a while,
Like needles, rain crashes on my windows.
But today, the city is slowly dropping off her misty cardigan.
You may ask what season runs in my heart,
But please don't ask about the season in my city right now.
Because nobody knows, and those who know won't tell.
Why isn't it raining already?
In the distance,
I can see the lights of Shillong, on top of its hills.
Their houses, bazaars and city lights,
Seem so close that I always feel like,
I'm living in two cities, two countries.
You know, my city sleeps early, wakes up late.
There's no rush to catch a breath.
Peace follows so much like a shadow in my city that,
Sometimes, one dreams of chaos and it aches.
It's the kind of peace that makes you feel guilty,
And you wish to run away.
But can you really leave?
The writer is a student of English Literature at Metropolitan University, Sylhet.