In the many eras we have lived

And loved

We had quite a lot of time

To talk about diverse subjects;

A plethora of topics.

I can still recall

Those nights

When I would come to you, running

We would sit under a bower

And talk endlessly

Sometimes you would appreciate my finesse

And particularity

For removing the tinkling anklets before coming.

And I would giggle

Saying

I might not be able to play your flute

But I am quite a woman.

The moon would gleam

The breeze would blow

The awed birds would gaze

You and I

Would go on

Talking

And talking

And talking.

There wasn't a beginning

And definitely no end.

Everytime when we would have to go back home

Quietly sweep inside the quilts and sheets

Waiting for our mothers to come wake us up in the morn

Every one of those moments, Krishna

Felt like a little death.

Every little transient goodbye

Even with a promise to meet the next night

Brought pangs of pain.

For it seemed like

I had so much to tell you

Yet I could never find the words.

What can I say? I'm silly

Really stupid.

But as I sit here, under the same moon and the same tree

But alone

I realise, my heart gasping

That I do not recall

A single conversation of ours.

It is shocking

I could sit here all night

Coercing this stupid mind

To reminisce even a single conversation

And I just

Cannot.

What I do remember, Krishna

Are the many

Comfortable silences

We sat in.

With our eyes closed

Backs touching

Silence prevailing

In the entire cosmos.

Those were my favourite meetings

For I never felt like I had to say more to you

My quietude made deafening noises

Noises that you would hear

And respond to

In your own silent dialect.

I don't think people slept then,

Krishna

For me, in those moments

Only we existed.

The two bodies

One heartbeat.

I always knew

But in those moments,

I felt.

I felt like we were one.

I felt like we existed.

I felt like

We were

The perfect love saga.