twenty third march

It suddenly occurs to her .What will happen to her grandma’s childhood who she affectionately calls dimma.Her childhood memories of her village in Bangladesh.The lake where the boat swam, the snakes that crawled around the stems of the flower tree ,whose flowers she plucked with her Friend early in the day.
She had left the land she grew up in ,left it for education in a bigger city. A city that would with time become part of a different country.
Her grandma is 76 now ready to live again, another life in a different form.I haven’t seen her in years.The smell of her house, my mothers house used to be so distinct.I would often smell it in the evening in my own house. I can not recall the scent any more and with that it has silently left my house too.
Now it is the moment when my childhood memories will loose a place to roam around in.Her house will be bulldozed to create a more modern building. Devoid of her smell.
I shall die in my selfishness and my mother in her sense of respect.
I can smell the wafts of the fragrance.The fragrance of the shiuli flower or jasmine as it clings to the house of my memories.The flowers I never plucked.

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