We sit on the veranda this late evening,
Your face half-lit by the region’s Gulmohar,
Halved by shadows.
The east blurs as the west burns.
We are caught between
This fire and shadow.
You’ve turned towards the dimming landscape
Whilst I sit behind you.
I am not in your sight.
I only see your silhouette really,
But I can perceive more
In this blinding darkness.
There is no wind in the sky.
The tree wilts in its own heaviness.
We are locked in this stillness.
Far away, we made shameless love,
Our bodies intertwined; your words were mine
As my lips ended on yours.
We are far away from everything
We know together. Here you know everything
Alone. I am a stranger.
Sundered from you
By your love for your people,
This love is a chasm between ours.
This is your home-coming
And I cannot join you in your joy.
I suddenly am a voyeur.
You notice old faces changed, older now;
The smell of mangoes is sour.
What else has changed?
Perhaps your eyes have changed too.
But I am not of this land,
Your memories are not mine.
I see that your eyes stare at a nothing
Yet they search for all you have lost.
Once you had everything.
I am nothing here,
Only a faint memory of a foreign love
At the back of your mind.
And yet I feel I am the cause
For this heavy stillness this evening.
Our love must be a burden.
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