Such a rain-washed day looks sanctimonious enough to assume that we are far away from the ills of the world.
Today is such a day. You call out to me and we decide to go for a stroll. A stroll that has the twittering of birds and the mellifluous whispering of winds as company. Conversation is random, bordering more on the figments of imagination than the usual hard-core facts of worldly mundane theatricals.
You look amazingly and sincerely handsome in a spotless white chikan kurta matched only with a smile that has the magnificence of a thousand moonlit nights. You look at me and the innocence in your eyes makes my heart sing a different tune. I smile and turn around with the wind playing with the strands of my hair and your eyes playing havoc with my heart.
Silence plays hide and seek with random words, tidbits of conversation and stealthy glances. My hair flies, off and on, and then finds a cosy place to rest on your shoulder.
Sun sparkles in its magnificence and we realize it is time to go back. Back to the snug confines of an assemblage of trees, plants and flowers that we choose to call our garden. With kadak adrak ki chai, newspaper in hands, we croon softly to “karwan guzar gaya” in the background.
By and by, our foreheads crease. The smiles, that were just dancing on our lips, disappear slowly as we turn to face each other for the first time since we stepped out. Our voices rise, the radio's volume is turned down, we get into an argument where we are invariably on the same side.
BJP loses again only to rekindle the fire within us, only to let the affair of our hearts intensify.
Marriage has its moments.
