"Sorry!"

The rain-drenched breeze which whiffed past my shoulder last evening;

You were climbing down the stairs of your house on that day of May
As I climbed up them to return the day’s newspaper to your father.
You’d flicked back your wet tresses; fragrant with henna;
A few drops had sprinkled on my shoulder, and were wiped with a caress
By your mustard yellow dupatta* as it sinuously waved past me.
I turned around, just as you had too and we both
had said at the same moment- “Sorry!”

The rain-drenched breeze which whiffed past my shoulder last evening;
Reminded me afresh of that henna scented day’s-

‘Sorry!’

.

.

*Dupatta- Is a long length of cloth, worn by women, most commonly in Northern India, like a stole as a part of both their regular and formal wear.