Fingertips

Flinch at the thought. Imagaining how it feels to be complete. It's too promising, smooth...sly...creeps under your skin. But in a few moments, you will drop it. Just a thought it is, right? I don't think that thought now. Don't describe it. No details. Planned details.
Natural.

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First wedding observed closely. Intricacies, the planning..the running around of people. Like everyone working for a purpose- a common purpose. Mamas, masas, chachas

The Girl...her preparedness. Her reciptivity. Eyes on her...her gentleness..

A slight peep on the nature of relatives. Their behaviour. Then a discussion on observations. People stating what they disapproved...criticism, satire- in one room. Women.

Together then isolation. Dancing in a group and then sitting alone near the window in the bus. Enjoyed both.
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Temple. Coldness- serenity in every stone. Nooks and corners to visit. Pray to one idol and then the next. Tell it, your heart's desire. Make promises. Roll in the fulfillment of making a promise...
Feel pious. God is looking...small signals. Till nest time...and it will be soon

Taste of this prasad is matured. Not too sweet, not too divine...it's a lil plain and a lingering sweet..made for humans we have become. Fake sweet.
***
I loved reading for its own sake. I would travel with the pages...laugh,cry,feel! I would not allow sleep, hunger or humans to interupt this space. It was so mine. And it was not for declaring or counting...it was for love itself. The love of reading.
Right now, it remains a word on my c.v.

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Smiling without reason. Maybe you look like a fool...maybe you look cute...

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When I walk those paths, the stories captured in those streets surface up and fill my eyes, nose, ears...and I can see us at the chaiwalla or strolling in the juhu galli...
I can hear your jokes, your sillyness
I can smell the weather then, the brush of autumn leaves on those roads.
The tale weaves me. I step willingly into my robe of naivety and believe you..love you..and want you all over again.
Will I always feel this way?
Will separating from you, always bring in more realizations of how much I really liked you?
***
Friends. On phone, in coffee shops, in rain-drenched outings...

Colored stones. Greens, blues, reds...against my ochre

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