Radha you knew me before I was born br Those days you would stare at the dark rain clouds br Your eyes blank with your glass bangles of different shades br Jingling against the dull greyness of the monsoon air br Your eyes empty br You did not see that storm coming br The birds fluttering around you in panic to their nests early in the evening br Didn’t tell you anything br You remained beneath that banyan tree br Your arms clutching its wrinkled ancient bark br That had in it the scars and wisdom of a century or more. br You did not notice its ancient branches swaying br In that wind that sprayed tiny droplets on your eye lids br She was the messenger before the storm br But it was then I noticed the tears in your eyes br The salt of those droplets mixing with the crystal rain drops br Running down your cheek br Your lips quivered as the rain lashed on you br Radha, the river beside you is swelling br You should go home. br But I knew by the way your feet moved br That home was too far away br As like a river nymph you swayed your way into its swelling banks br br I still see that banyan tree in my dreams, Radha. br I do not know what grief stricken eyes you had br But when the storm comes every year br And the river bank swells br I think it cannot contain your tears br br br Dedicated to Chumki.