The Ornamented Woman

I never saw colours before I saw you.

I never saw light.

Love is so precise;

It misses nothing.


All before was mere pastiche.

And now is viraha

To the sitar player.

Rapture breaking up

Into absolute loss.


The fact that you are wearing

Glasses somehow changes

Everything,

Accentuates it

With ineffable nuances.

And there is so much

Playing with time,

Prolonging pauses,

Manipulating hesitations-

Pulses of an exotic music

To which the ear must be attuned-

Like hearing Persian hymns

For the first time.


You have stepped out

Of a Rajput miniature

Into the crowded

Oblivious street.

Stance,gesture and speech

Are one mystery;

Desire is the teacher,

Laughing behind its hands.