She sat clutching the folds of her thin red saree between her two legs. She wore a large Bindi at the center of her dusky forehead, half covered with the saree. Her knees joined together to make an inverted V. Just at the ankle, two half suns joined each other in a small tatoo. One of her rough hands felt the earth while the other held on to the smoke, she was puffing at.
There was a dry breeze blowing in the afternoon air but she could smell no rain. Her eyes squinted to the skies, as a large cloud loomed over the sun. She wished it would rain, but wishing for rain was like wishing for death she knew. Each would come at its own time.
Her eyes had anger, frustration and sorrow, she knew she wanted the rain and yet there was no way she could command its presence. It was like the shadow of the man, she followed..There were days when she walked after him, listening to him speak to others, staying silent or even listening to others with rapt attention..all the while being aware that she was there and yet he had never turned, never looked at her, never smiled.
He reminded her of the dark clouds, their audacity to bring the shadows home and yet not to yield rain in spite of all the expectant hearts, the prayers, the immensity of their cries.
She wish she knew what she had to do to move that shadow and turn it towards her, to envelop her in its darkness..she would scream through the nights, hit the walls, scratch herself and wish that love as such could be got from within or from anyone willing to love...but she knew anyone was not the rain cloud that mattered.
She moved her legs a bit then, blew some smoke as she turned tired eyes to the ground. She wrote some songs there, songs in the sand that she knew would vanish at the wiff of a wind..and yet she wrote as if possessed..She looked calm after a long time as she looked the well nearby. She walked up to it then, looking at the clear waters..wondering if a splash would make the dark clouds take notice that there was one soul less that he had to water.