I miss the sound of hand glass bangle of women
I also miss:

I miss the sound of raindrops on a tin shed roof, waiting for lentil mix rice
I miss the sound of the blizzard and running to home
I miss the sound of Asian ripen Palm fall to my village house backyard & run for it, who can pick it first.
I miss the wood burning sound in the village in winter, covered with a blanket, big dialogue about big politicks
I miss the sound of a coal stemmer in the river, an all-over black coal rainbow
I miss the sound of ‘ spicy Bombay mix chanachur ‘making of a bare feet street boy
I miss the sound wood roller coaster in a village fair, with villagers
I miss the sound of grandfather’s wooden sandal, run away from him
A missed the sound of laughing girl through my veranda in my college life
I miss the sound of bare feet walking in Saint Martin’s ocean wave with my friend
I miss the sound of loudly baby-kissing to stimulate someone
I miss the sound of angry women’s breaking cups or dishes, to bring control of everything
I miss the sound of high hill walking women from friend’s room window
I miss the sound of board game playing all day long, forgot lunch together with dinner
I miss the sound of teen girl false false play with red dye on bare feet
I miss the sound of the noisy village market in the village when everyone tries to bargain something
I miss s the sound of the baby falls on the ground and heavy run, convert pain to power
I miss the sound of Adan
I miss the sound of Sea snail Shankar at evening, for pray
I miss the Pujar Manjira sound
I miss the sound of creepers, showing there joy and love to be at home
I miss the sound of morning birds in front of my house, as there sanctuary
I miss the sound of morning rooster, awake up calls to all

I miss the sound of vagabond’s kids jumping to the “doel chatter” water, breaking rules
I miss the sound of English teacher’s punishing to hand with the thin bamboo stick, for study
I miss the sound of breaking of sugar cane by teeth in a free market
I miss the sound of a noisy bus to everyday way to College
I miss the sound of caw pulling card pushing myself, in wet soil
I miss the sound of the train to go to village after village
I miss the sound of never fixed village creepy door to Villagers’ aunt’s house to look for her daughter
I miss the sound of my  friend’s noisy motorcycle which doesn’t start after may many tries
I miss the sound of my dad office’s rotary dialing telephone, punch its head to work

I miss the sound of TomTom, pulling card by horse at an old City

I miss the sound of gunfire at Press club, for protest

And now even I forgot the sound of soundly drinking tea.