Sipping lichi juice,
diluted over and over
with water fetched by the waiter boy
We sit and talk;
Of him and her, he and he, she and him
and then of them.
Small talk on office politics,
Of time spent and unspent,
Of forgotten dreams and cherished desires,
We sit and talk;
On the cobbled pavement
across a table of cement, rooted to the earth.
Of loudness and the necessity to project
an exterior of brash,
A futile life.
We sit and talk;
You tell me how you want
To drop everything and go sit in a corner,
You tell me of the story of how you found him
or rather of how he found you.
I dont tell you of how I found and lost him
I do not tell you of how I lost
Another him.
But I tell you I want to fly,
I tell you that I dislike the circus of life.
Savouring the last drops of my drink
(Your empty bottle has been staring at me for long)
We sit and talk;
Move on to another table
For a plate of bhelpuri and sabudana.
And then we walk around the horseshoe
that is built over a gutter.
Curious knickknacks, bangles and trinkets,
Skirts that would billow if the wind was strong
Wallets and earthern pots.
We amble along,
Two kindred souls I would like to think,
Sometimes stopping to pick up and scrutinise,
oftentimes just pure admiration
Of the sketches and the fake Ravi Verma paintings
The kolapuri chappals
You stop to confer about the colour of a salwar kameez
Finally aquamarine blue over the conventional red is bought.
I just walk around
Pick up things to immediately put it back away,
Quest for quality, the habit of forever seeking the best.
Finally we have lavender shararat*(mishief)

*shararat -the new lavender coloured ice lolly from Mother
Diary. Price Rs 5/-