What's saddest?
The memories or the people?
Maybe it's hard to decide,
Yet all we have are memories.
Remembering those days,
The month of March,
The flow of Bordoisila,
The old hut, and the real people.
The thrilling sound of the wind,
Fear in our faces,
The destruction it left behind.
Hand in hand, shoulders touching-
Do you remember?
In the dark, lighting up candles,
Fear and joy intertwined.
Yet those days were beautiful-
When love and care were pure.
I remember, hiding beside the window,
Staring at the scary nights.
Cold wind carrying dry leaves,
Lightning streaking through the sky,
Sudden beats in our hearts!
Yet those days were too beautiful to explain.
Where are those winds now?
Maybe a transient gift,
One I never understood until I turned eighteen.
Now all I have left
Are memories... and memories.
Bordoisila: In Assamese culture, Bordoisila is a pre-monsoon storm that brings with it fierce winds and rains, usually occurring in the month of March. It's considered both a force of destruction and renewal. According to folklore, Bordoisila represents a powerful mythical being who returns to her mother's house, causing the stormy weather as she travels. The storm is a symbol of nature's raw power but also carries a nostalgic and cultural significance, especially for those who've grown up experiencing it firsthand
