I have a dream

We were at some kind of  resort. No I was staying there and you were to come on weekends. An arrangement  similar to this.

I have a flat mate mate, a guy who generally kept to himself, nice enough to cook for me. Again, god knows how that works. We played chess and had wine while I waited for you. We sang songs and ate while I dreamt of Sunday. I don't know what I am doing there, but the resort is in the midst of rolling hills, all lush, green and wet with longing.

I went and for long walks and discovered khazakistani blue silk-laden czars who were the size of my Grandfather and had just his smile. He offered me a drag. I remember the taste of nicotine and wondered at the warmth of his mouth. And then I waited for you. 

Then on one day and many days, and on many many days, there was someone else in the room. At first, he just watched me eat and read and speak to my flat mate. Then I realised he watched me bathe. A cold fear crept from the window into my shower where I felt his eyes. I tried bathing dressed as they do in Telugu movies. I learnt not to touch, not to shower at nights, always waiting for something really bad to happen. Would you come? Will he open the door? Will my flat mate die? Does he know that he will? Questions sometimes buzzed in your phone calls, somewhere at a distance but we kept it light. You called me a sex nymph and I called you my prince. Of castles we had air, water and the whole of this blue sky. I waited for Sundays which came after my wait.

I went for shows in the evenings, wore jasmines in my hair, I spoke at length of the saree and got a few friends in the resort all geared up to meet me. He watched my sudden socialisation and went crazier than the moon. He would watch my things when I was not in the room. I knew, I felt his eyes on the towel that covered me and on my underpants.

 

Then he started touching me without meaning to. On the swing when I would reading, he placed his hand under where I should be sitting and waited for my weight to fall on it. I didn't jump because I knew. I shifted but he smiled. I called out to my flatmate but panic had no special voice. He was busy in the kitchen.

I read, he watched and removed his shorts. There he is on the swing next to me holding his naked need. I had no hand for it, my eyes held on, I waited for you, here he was with his dampened, wasted life. I ran from the room. Twice, thrice, weeks altogether. I flew away on rain clouds. I got a job on the far end of Tv globe saving people, helping those who would need Organised, strategized, sustainable and recycled toilets. I was to leave when you came to meet me on Sunday. Some days, I waited and cried. Other nights he got bolder. He would take my blouse off and watch my fresh buds. As though they were roses, he would touch and smell and hold. I stopped crying when he held me close. But fear became the panther that strikes at night from a height. I watched the night for his eyes,

his touch and any sound that ever was made for my ears on alert. 

It didn't happen at night though. In broad daylight, I was crushed. Panthers can kill people, I knew it then. I merely had blood between my limbs and a wound that never filled. I love him. I waited for you at the resort. 

The panther killed again and agin until death was a state of mind. Life was a battle of nerve endings with disgust. You didn't arrive because of disgust. I love because of chemical messengers in the blood filling  my breasts and limbs with ancient ghost calls to produce life. The panther, did he love death or his prey? Who knows, who knows?

Years later, in a dream, you arrived on a Sunday. It was a clear night and my name was up with the stars in the sky.