For R, S, V, and for P, beloved-est letter of all.
Remember R,
how we danced
in the first rain of July Monsoon
beside the lone Gulmohur,
that swayed to the melody of your copper anklets,
Conjuring a thunderstorm of vermilion,
like abir in Holi.
And as you spun in a web of dizzying rhythm,
I plucked a rainbow from the sky
and laid it in a pool
of July Monsoon
that had seeped into cupped palms
from the lone Gulmohur's leaves.
You shone like morning glory.
Remember S, the darkness
that hung above your eyes
when you strayed into my dreams, in
the witching-hours of those summer nights
of calabash water-pipes
and cannabis.
With bleeding lip and smouldering heart
you burnt a kiss
on my pulsating neck.
You reeked of magic...
Afterwards, I awoke
in the lingering fragrance
of bitter incense, wine-red blood,
relentless fury
and opium poppy.
Remember V, the petals at dusk,
I scooped them up
and blew them in your face, gently,
but they clung to your raven hair
still wet from the Ganga,
her maudlin waves waltzed away by the wind
as we gazed at her spangled blackness
one last time.
They bid us farewell.
I borrowed some stars from the night
in return for some kohl
from your eyes,
and strung them into a garland for you.
You smiled,
but I wept.
Remember P, how I hated you
for your indifference,and longed to be freed,
to plunge to Ganga's delivering depths,
or drown in July's Monsoon,
to shred my veins with fatal steel
and drown,
in my anguished blood instead!
But weak and alone in all the world
I resigned myself
to the whims of your companionship...
I look back and smile,
For now,
now that I have accepted you,
You have learnt to love me.