Her kohl is smudged, running now like riverine tributaries, her mangled tresses, damp, spreading all over her undulated bare back. The hooks on her blouse undone, as tiny specks of moistness form and melt. One of her anklets is misplaced. She shivers, at the touch of her own skin. Her cheeks warm, wanton, as she runs her fingers over her ample bosom. Rising and falling. Like she were running a fever. Her lips open, and close. The scent of last night still alive, imminent. Trapped in the delicious darkness between her inner thighs. Somewhere, at a distance, lie her ornaments. The icy sheets a reminder of her nakedness. She pauses, at her navel. Circling the perfect circumference. Like a full moon on a stormy night. She lies on her stomach, slanting her face. Whispering strange secrets.
A slow tear, rolls out from the corner of her left eye.
Salt. Surrender. Savage.
Outside, the thunder howls, like a pregnant beast. Anguished cries, as if. She imagines herself in his arms. The way he held her at the close of midnight. Rocking back and forth. The way her head lolled backwards, falling into a sedated, sedantory spell. The way he grabbed her hips, her hands, her heels. And then the same again.
Heels. Hands. Hips.
And, again.
The way she came alive. The way she wanted to be undone. The way she chose to bid farewell.
The way she was once.
A girl. Not a gilded Goddess.
Free to love who she chooses.
A woman. Not a wife.
A bird of desire, not a prisioner of pleasure.
'Don't,' she sighs, walking away.
Not looking back.
'When will you be back?' he asks, the way he had on her wedding day.
A drop of rain lands on her lips, just then.
She drinks it in.
Dawn breaking.
'I come every year...' she murmurs.
'As?' the rest of the words linger.
She stares at her herself in a full length mirror. The marks over her sex. A crooked line of stitches. The pain of birthing returning in waves.
She crosses her ankles.
'Gauri,' she bites her lower lip.
'Gauri,' he repeats.
'Gauri is gone...' she breathes into the first light.