The Perfumer's Prayer Poem by Sumita Jetley

That evening, as the Maghrib call
Danced through Byculla's fading sprawl,
Aarif stood, in twilight's hue,
Between the old and something new.

The sky unrolled in gold and blue,
A silk of dusk, a scent so true.
Rain-kissed earth and sea's embrace,
Sandalwood smoke in a distant place.

He closed his eyes, the world grew still,
A perfumed whisper, the air did fill.
Not just a shop, nor just a trade,
But a prayer in fragrance, softly made.

For every scent, a tale untold,
A love once lost, a hand once cold.
Some blend for wealth, some blend for fame,
But Aarif blended for memory's flame.

And as the stars began to glow,
He murmured words so faint, so slow—
'Ya Lateef, let me be unseen,
Like musk that lingers, yet stays serene.'

And in the night, where dreams unfurl,
His shop remained—a scented pearl.
Not owned, not lost, just left behind,
A trace of love, in oud entwined.