Sanchana in the rain

I’ve been working late into the night like all other days. It’s 3:20 am when I first stifle a yawn and notice the time. I let the export run on the computer, turn the lights off, walking groggily into the bedroom. I creep beneath my end of the duvet, careful not to wake her up. Almost instinctively, she nudges closer, the small of her back finding the small patch of skin peeping through the gap between my t-shirt and dirty shorts as I lay curled up. She nestles further in, fitting her cold body in the crevices she can find in mine, our body temperatures flowing to and fro on the scale for a brief moment before they find middle ground; a nice, warm fire, crackling, et al. I smile, glancing up at the blurry reflection of her face on the window pane near me. She always leaves the bedroom lit so it has a warm glow about it, so fuzzy and quiet, it is almost impossible to not drift asleep minutes after stepping into the room. The fan keeps her stray strand of hair fluttering gently, and I fall asleep, the light, sound of fan, her breathing against the nape of my neck, and a wholeness in my heart. She’s up in my dream, standing by our balcony, letting the rain drench her slowly, swaying to music only she seems to hear. She senses my presence behind her, turns around wordlessly, eyes smiling at me knowingly. Only now, what separates her from me is no longer the window, but the desktop, her face so close, I can see it pressed against the screen, now too close, too blurry, now two steps away, my lens whirring around to find a plane of focus on her, now only her bindi, now the weird embroidery on her kurta, now a couple of raindrops trailing down her nose as she laughs a chime, looking down, taking away the little grip I have left on deciphering how I landed up here. It might not make sense to you, I’m still inside my dream, but until she twists and turns around in S’s and inverted S’s, until her finger tips trace the skeletal structure around my waist, bringing along a whiff of her, until then, it is me, her, my desktop screen although yes, that does not quite make sense either, and that little bit of rain on our balcony. ** You might enjoy looking at the pictures while listening to this number. Hit play. :)