do you miss me (a translation)

come to the window, watch it pour outside.

do you miss me yet?

extend your arm, let a puddle gather in your palm,

drink it.

do you miss me yet?

absorb all the raindrops that the wind throws at your face,

close your eyes, lose yourself,

if that doesn't work, come out to the sea -

she must be provoked already, dunk your feet in her;

the sand will shift from beneath your toes, do you miss me yet?

then walk, let the abundant needles of rain pierce your being,

keep walking till it stops raining, oh, but it won't, so come back home eventually,

don't change out of the saree, don't dry your hair, come back to the window,

and wait for your husband - do you miss me yet?

the doorbell will ring, open the door, it'll be your husband.

take the bags from his hands, he'll take the raincoat off himself,

he'll ask you why you're drenched, tell him, the house is leaking.

make tea, have some yourself, too.

he will play some pankaj udhas, you will obviously turn it off,

and put on kishori's sahela re, do you miss me yet?

night will fall and he will pull you close, tell you he loves you -

but please say it back -

a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder will startle you.

he will turn on his side, inspect the outline of his turned back.

do you miss me yet?

later, don't forget to stare vacantly at the ceiling.

later, try your best to only listen to the rain fall.

later, pull the knife under your pillow, close.

this monsoon, on such a day, do you miss me at all?

(This is a humble, amateur translation of Saumitra's बघ माझी आठवण येते का)