Over a game of Ludo
As the board was laid. We took seats.
Momentary silence. And a few breaths after. Playing with her plait. She softly said.
Ok. I accept. In this game there is a chance you shall finish first. But win I shall.
And how is that possible? I asked.
Magic. She said. And laughed. Loud. For the first time. In our conversation.
I understood. There and then. For laughs are less complicated. Than smiles.
Mortals finish first. Prose.
Angels win. Magic. Poetry.
Shall we walk again?
That night. They met. In bed.
Nine months since they last met.
In their most passionate moment she knew he was not here. He was far away in wilderness. Kashmir mountains. Holding a rifle.
He knew she was not here. Far away in a cold room. Maity Maternity Home. Holding a bed sheet. Where an unborn foetus lay. Still.
He could smell ether. She gunpowder.
They lay motionless. Each lost in other’s thoughts.
A dog barked somewhere.
Startled he said. ‘Shall we walk again?’
She quivered. At his voice. A stranger’s.
‘No. We have forgotten the destination. Let us take some rest.’