They...

Tara looked out of the window. Her fingers wandered aimlessly through the long, listless strands of her hair, that caressed her hips. The husband had set sail for new profitable shores. She would not set sight on him for the next six weeks. The hollow hunger was already on its way up in her belly.

Surya thought he saw the curtain flip and a shadow dissolve behind the darkness. It was probable it was she. The merchant had left at the crack of dawn. He had paid Surya's step father a hefty fees to take one of his giant boats and ten of his best sailors. It could only be termed a divine intervention that the wound on his back disqualified him from joining the group. 

The brass door knob felt ominous. Tara halted for a moment. Another step and she would smell the freshly cut grass, the air and soil. "No this is far too dangerous." She looked away from her moment of emancipation and curled down near the door. She has forgotten how it felt to step out. She just lay there, feeling the rude intrusion of cold marble on her face. The woman within her had died several deaths each time the trader husband chose to look the other way, copulated with her sans passion; bought her sarees and bangles but never cared to touch the drops of water on her shoulder remnant from her baths. Now she was accustomed to crispy crackle of currency notes taking over the melody of her languishing heart.

"Biwi Ji, I got you a water lily." Jolted from her reverie, Tara sprung to her feet. She had heard this voice before. She recognized the shudder it sent through her body and into her soul. This was him. What was he doing at her door step at such an hour? Did he not sail with the rest of them? Did it allow her to be anxious?

Surya was there waiting for the door to open and those tiny feet to appear. And soon enough they did. He could not look at the face, the dainty little pink feet preoccupied his gaze. He was besotted since he first saw them walk up the cobbled steps of the bathing ghat one morning. Now it was a daily ritual.He would be there humming some meaningless song, cleaning his boat each morning, waiting for the duo to appear and disappear slowly in the water. That was his opium, he survived each day and skipped through his dreams each night to be there at the ghat as the Sun nodded to the million salutation.

The silver bells looked bigger today. Yes their music was familiar, yet hesitant. How he craved for a touch of those feet, that he he knew would destroy the last thread of salvation. He wanted to reach out and lay his hands on the alabaster  like creation. But the awareness of another's sight stinging him was too strong too ignore. His heels dug further into the soil.

"What is your name?" Tara quietly asked. "Surya". The young man continued to look towards the earth. Her eyes panned the broad expanses of his shoulders. She knew where she had heard his voice. It was at the ghat  each morning in the rendition of lonesome sailor songs. There he was, eyes shy, sun beaten skin. The ebony chest lay bare like an empty sheet to be a witness of a tale of the unknown. The legs that revealed themselves from underneath the crumpled dhoti had witnessed many a severe storm, frantic sprint through the dusty lanes, submerged secrets of the river that flowed out of their village. He was blocking her sight and his shadow engulfed her. The eyelashes were like palm leaves. They fell like a cover over the promises his eyes held. The jaw was taut and almost perfect, save the dip in his chin. Why did she want to run her finger across the jawline, circle the dimple and move all the way up? Dark and quiet, he loomed large like a sculptor's rustic creation. Rough around the edges, smooth like slate all the way, she saw the muscles of his torso clench under her shameless gaze. 

He lay the flower on the red verandah. Her feet were brushing against one another. He let out a sigh. The warm breath bathed her feet in sensations she had tucked away in the crevices of her broken memory. The lehenga revealed nothing beyond her ankles. The mirrors on the skirt could not distract him from following the length of her legs. "She has a tiny clinched waist," he marveled as his eyes lingered on the gold chain that spun lazily around her. The hands that rowed the boat and set the tattered sail each day, agonized at the thought of tip-toeing through the doll like figurine that stood there twisting an unknown desire inside him. Only if she could be reached out to.

Tara noticed the jagged an bruised hands. The palms were like a map of the journeys he had made and the mementos the wind and water gave back. She ached to be under their touch, to be imprinted by the roughness of them. What patterns would they draw on her back? Would they release her hair from the usual braid? Could they cover the contour of her heart shaped face and resuscitate the forgotten couplets? She wanted to know, she wanted to hold, she wanted to proffer. He had washed up at her shore. She wanted to celebrate in gay abandon. "It would be short lived, but this shall last me a lifetime." Tara knew it was the end.

He retraced his steps on the red soil. He knew the flower now lay in her hand. He need not look back for a promise. There were none. The eyes followed him as far as they could see. She knew the doors would soon shield him from her, once again.

A distant melody breezed in on that autumn afternoon. Tara knew Surya's song, she did not read his eyes.

The lotus feet reappeared from beneath the water. They slipped past him yet again. Surya did not see the river mirror Tara's face. 

They did not need to know. They were aware.

"A dream has power to poison sleep." - P.B Shelley

One afternoon...

The sweat drips down his back,

He had lots to finish in the woods,

She stood at the corner of the pebbled river bank.

The hour-glass weighed down with the frivolities of introduction;

The air was warm and it was starching itself still,

For it knew there was a collision impending.

The sun dress hung languidly to her tensed body,

The curves accentuated by the thin fabric;

She knew there was threat lurking close,

As her dark eyes turned a shade darker. 

The gazel knew the panther was around.

The brown in him whiffed of musk and grime;

He stood behind her taking in her sight.

The Sun glistened through strands of her boyish hair,

The corner of her mouth quivered.

He felt cruel as he sensed the chase was about to begin.

He knew she would struggle and steal and sigh,

She would resist and oh how much he reveled the image!

The hand around the waist tightened.

The hair bristled her soft skin,

The unkempt beard brushed at the nape of her neck.

It stung, it bruised, it caressed;

The guards were shattered.

Slowly they turn to look at each other,

Their gaze unbroken by the mountain river that gurgled.

The fire burns up the heat that consumes their mind, body and soul.

It blazes through their eyes and parches their throat.

In one passionate embrace he pulls her to himself.

The breath is all lost, there is no ground left uncovered.

He deepens his reach in her mouth,

She swallows the fire that fills her mouth and burn her lips.

The kiss breaks into a stare and a stare leaps back to a kiss.

The game is on, the sparks fly all around.

He reaches up for her chin n bites it,

She tilts back to let her body blend into his warmth and strength.

The hardness between them is seeking attention,

She goes down on her knees and runs her hand round the waist band of his denim.

Her touch promises the unknown, the thrill,

He looks heavenwards, a sigh escapes his lips.

There she is, loving and biting n sucking his passion in.

The lips, the tongue engage in a fierce eruption of senses he was till then unaware of,

The force increases and engulf him as if it shall burn his soul.

He slides down a hollow he knew not could be consumed.

The birds are busy with their usual task,

Unmindful of the mangled duo.

His voice breaks in a rough murmur 

As she sucks him in one last time.

He has let the dress out of her shoulders

It has revealed the swell of her cream mounds.

His mouth find one while his hands caress the other.

They tighten at the sudden thrilling onslaught.

Her legs shake under the force of the impending drama.

She knows she is trapped,

He smiles wickedly as the last sense wall of defense has been broken.

He stares back in her eyes as she tries not to blink nor shy away.

The eyes are naked, the bodies aint.

He goes for her hips and pulls them to his hardness.

She may just break at the throb of his pulses there.

It pierces through the threads of the fabric which is just like a defeated excuse now.

The male hands go searching,

They know their direction

The shadow between her legs is where they head

As he softly strums at it.

With one swift motion he glides his fingers into her;

The moan is swamped by the sweetness of his lips.

The touch burns through her as he bends her over his thigh

There she lies all helpless and barren,

He sinks his finger further and beyond,

The wetness oozes through her crevices.

He plays on and bends his mouth inside her

The tongue digs deep and tastes her bud

The air has not been so warm in a long time now.

Her mind has shattered into a bright sparkling dance,

It sings it hums, it wants to go beyond the stars.

Her legs have now crossed behind his neck 

As he sucks out the last bit of dew she has there.

It is now a matter of time before they shed their clothes

His fingers undress her slowly as he takes in the sight of what emerges.

He is cruel, he denies her the pace

His eyes burn her skin and she knows no more.

With one move they glide down onto the pebbled bank.

He is now between her legs and his hardness presses onto her belly.

She moves her hand onto his waist and pulls at his pants

He knows now she cannot wait anymore.

As he sinks into her,

His mouth finds the hollow of her neck,

He tastes her neck, while she digs her fingers on his back.

The movements fasten, their bodies glisten,

Their sweat inter mingle.

Its his turn to lie on the pebble and she climbs onto her mate,

Slowly she licks the sweat from his steely chest and the from the dark above his legs.

She massages the fatigue out of his shoulders and looks longingly at his feet

She knows she wants to feel them on her skin

They tease, they tingle as he nuzzles up her breasts.

The hands are busy parting her legs as his on her body feasts.

There she is, there he is on the bank of the pebbled river

The water hums and breeze blows

As he enters her and the passion flows.

One small stroke in the opening which unnerves her tension,

And then with massive force he thrusts himself into her

The chains have broken, she quivers under his weight.

They know all is one, their blood sweat and fate.

He thrusts and pulls and she lifts her eager hips.

He glides in deeper, he pushes in further, she is about to tip.

And their movement seems endless, their two bodies dance at once,

They are almost there, where reality mixes with trance.

For one last time she pulls outside of her,

Their eyes meet and lips murmur,

Her legs entwine on his back,

He lustily smiles and smirks

And thrusts with all his masculine force into where her passion lurks.

They call out the others name, their embraces tighten

A thousand splendid suns between her legs awaken

He releases within her as she clenches herself waist below

Oh their passions have ignited the hot summer afternoon, 

She knows she has been touched in a new way.

Slowly as he lifts himself from her tired, warm body

He looks back into the dark eyes.

She turns her gaze into his.

Their smiles meet, their needs answered.

As she rolls to her side, he cannot let there be any space between them

He pulls her close as he spoons her from behind.

There they lie, sharing a quiet moment 

In each others embrace, with the river breeze wafting their scent.

Well, the kingfisher glides down to catch its prey,

The two set of eyes look on,

The space beckons new promises, a new tale,

They turn to look at each other.

The trees know, the lovers are back in the throes of passion yet again......

Its a long summer afternoon I guess. NEVER MIND :)

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