ALMOST JULIET

ONE

Dhrubo has seen Varsha in her bra
He has sat on the same bed with her at three thirty at nights
He has been woken up by her wails at four
He has held her head and brushed her teeth the weekend after Vishal left
He has seen her wait by the telephone for hours
He has heard her cry in the bathroom while the water ran in the tub
He has missed her every day during that year in London
He has sung “Heaven”, to her at international rates
He has written eighty nine poems for her (and twenty on her) under seven pseudonyms
He has slept with her in his dreams
He has been in love with her ever since he can remember


TWO

Varsha thinks if he would only look at her properly
She would kiss him square on the mouth
If he would only just graze her hand
She would flash him
If he would only finish the salad before the pudding
She would undress both of them
If he would only twitch his nose, lick his lips, blink his eyes or say anything
She would give him her heart
And if he would only smile
She would let him stay the night


THREE

Dhrubo reaches across the table to help himself to the caramel pudding
He has deliberately left some of the salad uneaten to make room for it
Because she makes it just like his mother
All through the meal, he has been careful not to make eye contact
Because then he will never be able to leave
He has even seated himself opposite to her
So as to avoid even accidentally grazing her exquisite forearms
Careful not to reveal himself now
But during his time there
He has blinked nineteen hundred and twenty three times
Though he has still not managed to
See anything