Vagrant Meander

'I am smelling of you',  said she,  Lying on the warm bed beside me.  You dread going away embracing her tight,  Curling fingers around her with all your might.  You hold her bosom in the spreading calm,  Your breath grows heavy and your mind goes numb.  She smiles in the dark, her eyes burning bright,  The moments of pleasure slipping into the night.  You open your eyes and she is gone,  The tired face stares at the frosty dawn.  The lonely soul craves for the time that flew,  Attuning to the cold bed and now stale brew. But your heart awakens to words that are true,  'Your smell is mine and mine is you (rs)'. 

Aaj raat phir judenge bikhre sapne, tahako ke beech har koi lagenge apne. Dil ka dard bhulane ki nakaam koshish mein, do ghoont aur peene ki purani saazish mein, Raat waqt ko kheench kar bithana chahegi, apne roop par rang par ithlana chahegi. Par savere ko kaun rok paaya hai, Jab har baar dil ka dard dimag par chad aaya hai, Par agli raat kaun si zaada door hai, Ujale ke guroor se badhkar hamara suroor hai. Phir se hongi nakaam koshishen aur purani saazishen, Phir se raat apne roop par ithlayegi, Aur poore Lucknow ko batayegi, ki 'aaj mere ghar shukla phir se aaya hai, Aur apne saath ek aur shukla laaya hai.' Jungi chuchap side me baitha chane khayega, aur apne dil ki baat kisi ko na batayega, ghar jayega aur so jayega. Aur in darual ke beech ek bujurg saans roke baitha hai, sar sapat, chehre par shikan aur haath me chalakta jam liye aitha hai, soch raha hai ki bas raat ko ab jaane dete hai, aur gharwalo ko ab chain se ...

Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak! But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn't working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari. “I am sick of this!” she grunted loudly. The sun glowed on her face which had turned crimson with anger. With fists clenched tightly, she sat looking straight at the sun. Her body was burning inside. Even the calm waters of Godavari were not enough to ease her pain. Her father had been...