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Which was never meant to be


Circa 1993, a splendid corrosion of old identities

 

dissolved at a business school

 

the mindset of allowing

 

new ipseity to harness itself

 

took me to my new evanescent dream

 

which was never to be

 

a cursory stealing glance from her

 

through my accounting notes

 

was enough fodder for my anticipation

 

somehow lead us to exchange our phone numbers

 

and the first call was missed

 

as I was away, attending the “beating retreat”,

 

a celebration of the republic

 

it was a joy of the superlative kind

 

can’t manifest here, in few words

 

the news of a phone call was full of a beatitude

 

Delhi was never so beautiful

 

the next wintry day

 

made me see

 

a girl in shawl over few cups of tea

 

over the terrace of an old building,

 

a makeshift education space

 

I scatterbrained myself, off balance

 

wore a black sweater

 

matched with her black shawl

 

traffic flew by the time

 

gentle breeze swayed her hair

 

while I was engrossed in her simplicity

 

the picayune lectures were the last things

 

in my euphonical mind

 

that hourly chat

 

and the subtle undertones

 

of platonic smiles

 

with the skies of innocence

 

was perhaps the best

 

sound of a mellifluous romance

 

and a theme for lost sleeps

 

for many fortnights

 

but this was a love story

 

which was never to be

 

a debacle of certain kind

 

disturbed by destiny

 

diluted my perseverance

 

but forever enshrined

 

in the density of my mind

 


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