Lost and found

She always stumbled upon her truths on directionless bicycle rides in the rain, unplanned walks along wild riversides and on dark nights, waking up from half remembered dreams.

Unplanned moments.

Or shivering, half wet with wind swept hair, bundled into a taxi and caught in an never ending traffic jam. Miserable to the point of numbness.

It was always difficult to irritate her.
She was calm in the most infuriating circumstances. and deep down
melancholic over the inconsequential.

"God knows what you are thinking", he would have asked her, she wished.
Shown some curiosity about her.
Spoken of and about her as anything other than the bounds of their secret.

They did not, after all, exist outside the occasional trysts. 

They were fragmented parts of themselves, more visible attributes left out
in the real world.

"Make me a happy man," he used to say, looking away from her.
He wished to forget himself, much as he would forget about her, once
he stepped away from their frenzied meetings with slightly hunched shoulders, looking straight
ahead. He was a busy man.

She caught him looking at her sometimes.
Speculatively.
As if she were a signboard put up on an unsold piece of land. With
vague possibilities.
Or he looked with that very blank expression of desire that was just
that. Here she is.
She was thinking of this nothingness as she plunged into the taxi,
faintly apologetic.
She was thinking of him, as always. After the last encounter.
It was yet to sink in that it was their last.
There was a faint feeling of incompleteness.
Shaking off the feeling, she tried, as usual, to take refuge in the trivial.
"This sea, she said, gesturing vaguely out of the taxi window, throws
up more garbage, isn't it bhaiya? she asked the taxi driver.
The taxi driver was speaking.
"The sea, didi, gives back everything. Does not keep anything."
"Aadmi bhi samandar ki tarah hona chahie. Hota to ek hi jagah pe par
hamesha tehelta hai. Thehrao bhi hai, gehrai bhi. atma sammaan bahut
hai, Kisika kuchh nahin rakhta." (Every man should be like the sea. It
is contained in one place but is constantly moving. It is still, yet
deep. It has a great deal of self respect. does not keep anything that
does not belong to it")
The taxi driver went on. Looked back.
She gave the now silent driver a silent smile that always conveyed what the other person

wanted to hear. Assured the other that they would be all right.

She knew of the stillness. for was that not what helped her live along with his absences.
And the depth. of her thoughts. When she longed for him.
Clutching herself tightly,caked with the salt from the spray of the
waves, she wished he would give her back.