Memories of rain.....

Of what memories such a feeling is made of? You wonder.
When it has just stopped raining in the afternoon and a bright finger of sun pierces past the edge of scattering clouds and you hear a blackbird sing somewhere from the dripping leaves and you remember how once, in such an afternoon she stood before your door, dripping from head to toe and how slowly that tiny speckle of raindrop went along her temple, cheek, jaw and the neck…and then you had heard the blackbird sing too “What the hell are you looking at?”

Did it hurt? Hell no! It didn’t then.

You had managed with a quick “You forgot the umbrella ?” but later that raindrop had followed you around with such a lingering perfume of rain and smile that in memory of that raindrop you had a colourful tattoo done on your forearm: of water, bird and sun and then every one you came across the next day gazed admiringly at it; yes, some touching it, asking that one question every again “Oh ! it should have hurt? ”
"Huh! As if it didn’t?" You thought.
But quickly you put that fake smile on your face and said “well, not much” and after such a long day when you returned home; done and tired, threw yourself on the couch sipping a cheap wine and absently gazed at the design and asked yourself "Did it hurt"?
The water, bird and the sun ?? and finally muttered...
"Yes, it does now".
"I look at you and it hurts".You catch yourself saying.Then, you smile asking yourself, why the hell you didn’t speak this 'then' ..........?
Like how Tobey had spoken to a naked Charlize. With a hand on his heart.

Bangalore' 05
PS:
Sashi, some more of airing the laundry.