“Lagi aaj sawan ki fir wo jhadi he…”

The rain beats down, ceaselessly. Wetting her full lips, whetting my appetite. And I burn inside.

Several years have passed since we first met. She was young then, and I was wise. Now, she is older, but I am no wiser. Yearning, puppy like, for a woman I can never have.

“Lagi aaj sawan ki fir wo jhadi he…”

There she stands, under no shelter, in this achingly sweet weather. Arms akimbo, with her umbrella thrown carelessly aside. Her black, black hair streaming rivulets only less clear than her eyes. Face uplifted, droplets adding diamonds of brilliance to her golden hoop earrings. Her eyelashes clump together, and her silky cheeks, blushing red, cooled by the wet, wet, water.

A rivulet runs down her elegant throat, and her mouth open involuntarily to catch a lucky raindrop…

And the old flame roars to life again

Scarce a flicker, it burns strong despite the torrential rains…perhaps fed by the setting as well as the sight in front of me.

“Kuch aise hi din the wo jab hum mile the…”

So many years have done their disservice by me, while time has not changed her at all! And when we first met, it was the same. I, shielded by the awning, she dancing, childlike in the downpours of a monsoon.

“wahi aag seene me fir jal padi he…”

I yearn for her, I ache for her.

But I cannot have her.

A lone teardrop sneaks past my shut lids, and pearls itself down to the ground. Unnoticed in the midst of all these saucy raindrops.

And yet, would I allow myself the luxury of pain! Every desire, every emotion, every yearning must be felt by my battered soul.

Because my bruised and crippled body can feel no more.

Come, my darling, devoted wife. It is time we were going home.