Dear brother,

Red roses do not suit you,

Nor do the formality of white;

For all the words of love, passion, elegance, and enthusiasm-

Almost none of which I felt for you.

Rather I would lay down blue,

Dark as the Mumbai night sky

For the impossibility and mystery you were;

And if I could,

I would paint the sky you so loved

With the colors of enchantment,

A tribute to you who wanted so badly to fly

And by some pure miracle,

Grew wings and escaped with your soul,

Flying high above the clouds until

You reached your garden.