Bridge Across Forever

am easily talked into things, I muse. Sitting in the car on a day that I am stolen from office. I couldn't resist his wind washed hair and an unspoken promise of fun.

Its a dark afternoon. Pouting clouds. Just a fistful of sky.

We love bridges. Both of us. Places that connect unwanted paths. Or desires even.

The first drop of rain on asking arms. Biblical almost...

And we stop the car to get down... amongst hurrying passersby to safer eaves. The wind that's picked up dust from unswept corners that pushes everyone away. A tug at a scarf, a pull at the person, a yank at the umbrellas...

Raindrops knock on unopened eyelids.

The car's blinkers rhyme in unerring patterns of light.

It rains a generous rain. Our clothes tired of protest, give up and cling to us in the beating rain.

We stand at a point where the bridge arches in defeat.

Descent... he corrects me.

What's the exact point called, we both know not.

Bridge-0-bow...

The exact moment his lips close on mine I think is somewhere between the half formed O and the surprise caught beforehand.

Maybe this is what is called stealing words from one's mouth.

Nameless here forever more

Hers was the first face I saw everyday. And the times she wouldn't be there when I woke up, before the panic rushed in, I'd let my hopeful fingers run on the pillow. Her note was always there if she wasn't.

'Call....will be back'.

'The milk... will be back'

It didn't matter what the words said. My just-flickered-open myopic eyes hardly read what was written. The starchy feel of paper and her voice in writing was all that mattered.

And when I left, I forgot to leave behind the habit. Fingers that sought disappointment. And found it.

Coffee... Odds and Ends

The best thing about Tamil Nadu would be the filter coffee. The rich brown swirls in steel tumblers and humble saucers with elevated edges. The warm smell that shoves you gently to waefullness. The slight bitter aftertaste that is oh so transferable in a kiss.

That's how he fell in love with coffee, he tells me. The girl's long gone but the acquired caffeine taste stayed on...

And I am supposed to be the person of words!

I make him the bittebest coffee ever. His nostrils lowered half into the coffee mug sniffs and draws into the smell hungrily. Its been a while, he tells me in nostalgia scented tones.

Its been some years actually. When the last I saw of him was when he gave me a 'going away' present. He was the one leaving. I remember, an awkward slip of a girl I was. Standing by my vehicle-of-taking-away, I stood alone with unsure, unshared thoughts...

Unshared silences this time, years later.

Its the best coffee he's had, he tells me resting his head on the solitary wall of my house.

Even better than your mom's?

Best happens to be superlative, I learn that day.