Summers in Delhi and walking with you in the Connaught Place arcade for hours was just a ruse hunting for bargains in lanes and by lanes of feelings and imagination.
A sudden gust of hot wind holding to our sanity blew your long hair that day hiding your face.
You caught me unaware within the partings of your hair and a red dupatta sweeping your face.
I saw a turmoil suddenly let loose melting roads far ahead of us. the sun showed no mercy on an intensity of another moment in an emerging dust storm.
You held me tight in your sweaty hands as we ran seeking refuge behind colors of a season, your bangles, bindis and lips in an afternoon of tangled talk.
