monideepa unlimited

Standing under her pink dotted umbrella,
She stood like a paper cut- out,
Singular existence...

She was thinking hard
For her eyes were half closed;
Lost in deep thought, perhaps,
As idiot me stood
Like an orphan
Under her pink umbrella same;

Did she mumble?
Did her eyelids bat?
I tried hard to fathom her,
Using my teethless groping mind...
And there she stood
As if struck by some serpent of unholiest kind;

Rain drops fell
Following a zigzag pattern
Down the cloth fringes,
Like molten lead-
Pure and Shiny drops...

A little distance away
Down the busy street,
Cars honk and run
Weaving curious simmering patterns of light
On wet, slippery road

And I thought,
God must be the pyrotech...

'You're crazy!'
She said finally,
Her eyebrows twisted upwards
Corrugated...
And hustled across the wet road
To meet a creature -
Better than me perhaps,
From every count;

I watched
Her going back
Stilettos black, brown purse, pink umbrella,
Swinging hip crossing the road
Abandoning an idiot by the heap;

I waited
Like the ancient sage in his cave,
High up in the hills,
Covered by ashes and soot
And snow-capped silence.