Udita...to you...a dream...

Udita...
Wrote nothing to you
All these years
As time had not been in my purse
And rains here were really scarce...
Ten days of last month had been down
With fever...fret and frown...
The months before the last
Were full of dirt decadence and dust...
Finally this evening got the scope
To write a short version of what I thought most...

No...not specifically about you I thought all these days
But when this year the summer came
And a few yards away the thickets of bamboo grove
Got yellow from the green
I was reminded of the shot taken
By me in a garden of you once
Standing joyous
Probably in your white top and blue jeans
Puffy lips...
And long ear rings...
And  blushing cheeks...
And then the monsoon nights...
They came as usual with thunderous lights
Like flashguns burning for a moment true...
I had momentary glimpses of you
Sipping tea from your favourite tumbler
And sitting on the couch legs on fold
Newspaper opened unmindful
Flapping in the breeze...
That image me several times seized...
Like other ones...your wet toweled stance
Before the oval mirror combing your hair
Smell of shampoo,love and jasmine flower...
All these came and go...
Its a pity...Udita...that you then failed to know...
How thoses images wrought me up in bliss
How on bedspread I discovered your undropped kiss...
Then the autumn...festive glitter
Highs and lows in my barometer...
Mercury wrote your presence in graph...
I saw you breaking in wild laugh
In billboards...posters...special editions of magazines...
Your smart savvy days of teens...
You licking candy fluffy pink balls
Your face resembling mountain falls
Rapid...sparkling...full of life...
Lustre of diwali lights
In your hands...palms...and arms
You like a magic spreading charms...
On my every way of looking at things
My table...bookcase...runaway dreams...
In rhythms of drums beaten to offer prayer
To the mother like idol standing fair
I found the beats of my nimble heart
You...placing your fingers on left side of my checkered shirt
You biting ends of lips with suppressed desire
Full of wine...so intoxicating...yet bright
Udita...
O how I saw you in also wintry morning light...
You in red sweater upto neck covered
You thumping on my bosom...calling me 'coward'...
You walking through the flock of pigeons under the canopy of a provencial hotel
You unnecessarily pressing my doorbell...
You stopping in a misty wide open field
You taking a deep breath to get the feel
Of the new born marigolds that painted gold
A whole country side wrapped in idyllic mould...

Udita...
Wrote the short of the long one here
Next time I think I would make you a movie dear...
A big long one with choreographed trees...
And sea coasts exotic blue like a tease...
And hammock in swing with you on it
I would take long shots panoramic...
And there would be music...a lot...soft...ethereal
Music as rivers and fountains oft create real
As wind blowing through the sands...
Sometimes evolve into tiny strands
Of vision...
And music that emanate from caravans
Of nomads after the day dims into dark
Music of that invisible skylark...
Which once made a poet to erupt in joy...
Wish to put them all...
In that movie that would be shown in a private hall
Only for you dear...for you alone...
You would sit there and watch it...
On the leather sofa brown you would sit...
I?
Well...
I would be then in the projector room...
I would be keeping tabs from there of your smiles...gushes and frowns...
And when finally the movie would end
And the credit lines would appear
Rolling up from the bottom of the screen...
You would think of surely finding me
Somewhere in the hall...but you would not find me...
I would have then left the projector on run
I would have then another dream flown...

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