A Letter to Rosy Santana.
Remember the time I cooked fish for you
With spices from your shop?
I do, I'd rather eat poison than eat that bombil again but you never did stop.
Remember that corner in Chapora, where we met after school?
For five straight years, we sat there for hours, the spot still remembers our day-dreams and drool.
Remember the rock of Anjuna where we tried to catch fish out of our reach? The Kokum Sherbat still remembers our thirsty walk back from the beach.
I had to leave,
'Jeweler my dad wanted me to be,
but he didn't know, not seeing your pearly whites every day, is something I still grieve.
Our hearts did match but not our gods,
I was their boy and I wasn't ready to go against the odds.
A Market in Mapusa, Goa.