September 21, 2011

Cashmere and Crystals by Kruttika Kallury

As a tear rolled down my left cheek on our last winter night together in Delhi, you caught a crystal on your fingertip and told me I looked beautiful. You will be in Madras tomorrow. They call it Chennai now. But I still like the name Madras.

You roll your thumb all over my palm, taking in my touch. I don't object. I give it to you selflessly. Store it in the intangible cashmere pouch of our love and take it with you. The metal detectors and the x-ray machines at the airport will never know. It'll be our little secret, smuggled across the country. In moments to come, when you will feel scared and lonely, my fingers will find their way between yours and I will hold your hand to cross the bridge of solitude.

When the raindrops will come pouring down to kiss my senses, I'll know you're writing a song for me. And I will dance to the music in that rain. Will you hear my anklets tinkle?


  1. Simply wonderful.

    I certainly hope that we get to read more work by Kruttika Kallury in the future.

    Reading this puts me in the mood to head to Raj's Rasoi, a small restaurant in suburban St. Louis, where the chef is an artist from Punjab.

    There I can sit down with a large dish of chilled Kheer, rice pudding at its finest, and a pot of steaming Indian tea.