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