Two in the night isn't the right time to be watched over by two eyes in silence occasionally broken by a hushed voice pack up sir, madam must be waiting sleepless.
Three in the night and he was right beside me while the weary moon slanted to west and dead insects lay on the floor burned out by the joy of light.
Four in the night he was escorting me home half a mile up the hill when the stars were shedding light fading with the dying night.
He died sometime after I left the island.
On sleepless nights he's there to see me off. He could never be dead in my head.
In memory of my colleague BUK who died young. He stood by my side all along my stay in the Andaman Nicobar Islands.