Mukhari / Srisha Haridas

Wonderful wafts
of womanly smell
I kept smelling
through the night.

Source unknown,
suspecting synesthesia,
(très dramatique, c’est moi)
I let the flowers overwhelm me.

All it was, was,
stranded in my room
doing who knows what,
mother’s hair conditioner.

While the dripping wet trees
played a faux minimal tani,
I read Baudelaire
humming Kshetragna.

Srisha Haridas hails from Bangalore and currently works, quite tritely, as a software engineer there. He seeks solace from the horrors of Bangalore traffic in poetry and staunch cinephilia. Is perpetually humming a Carnatic raga.

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