July

July,
My month of passion,
Or digression.
Of rainbow hunting,
Of laughter and hurting.
Why do you forsake me, my love?
I seek my July manna now,
My pain and anguish, tears and joy
July had witnessed Fate's vile ploy.

An August Night

It wasn’t the best of August evenings when he stepped out. Late, lingering monsoon rains, the kind that always dampened his spirits, lashed out and Arjun shuddered at the thought of the task ahead. "Why me," he thought.... "Was this what I was made for? And that too, her? Does she deserve this?" And at that he recalled a verse she had read to him, one summer, "Since this was written, and needs must be". How far away it all seemed now. "Browning" he muttered, unbidden. "Browning", he muttered, "yet again.....". "A face to lose youth for, to occupy age with the dream of, meet death with." With death, he was going to meet tonight, but not his. A million thoughts crossed his mind, a million emotions stirred in the depths of his soul. It seemed like a dream and he'd wake any moment only to find her lying snugly by his side. But it wasn't. "It isn’t meant to be Arjun", she had shut the door on his face more than a year back; the day that changed his life forever. He had lost more than love that night. He had lost his mind, his faith, his happiness, and he had lost his patience....Paradoxically, as he walked the paved paths that led to her home, he felt a calm stealing over him. His mind cleared and he felt strangely patient. Tonight would last forever. Tonight, he thought, would be what he had so patiently for. Tonight. All his wait, his perseverance, his hope and his determination. The august rain would wash the sins, he thought - her sins. And his. Born in a puritan Brahmin household he could remember his mother tell him that it was a grave sin to kill a woman… Brahma Hatya….His fingers closed upon the pistol in his pocket. It felt cold. As cold as the emptiness in his heart. To him nothing else mattered tonight. He would have his revenge. The door was a foot away. The practiced feet made no sound as the practiced hand gripped the door knob and stealthily opened the only barrier between him and his destiny. Habit dictated that he take the stairs to the bedroom upstairs. He smiled. Not tonight. He knew where he would find her. A wry smile swept through his face as he tiptoed towards the living room.....the piano......he knew from the silence of its chords that someone was playing the grand instrument. The icy silence. The gloom. The wet august air. The stage could not have been better set. Yes, they were both there. As he had left them, after dinner earlier that night. The draught he had added to their coffee had worked well. He caught her eyes.....drowsy and tearful. Tears rolled like precious pearls from her lovely dark eyes. He moved his hands. She moved her lips. "Arjun, I knew you would come tonight," she said, "but the gun is a welcome surprise...." “It’s yours, my love”, he said. A single click. Arjun hardly blinked as blood squirted from her husband’s temples. Sleep was stealing over her. He quietly placed the gun in her fingers, kissed the lips he had now come to love and left quickly without turning back.