The Lipstick-Stained Cup

Time flew, Robin’s, thin moustache had matured to a thick one. Mira had begun to look better and during the Graduation Ceremony both looked lovely. During the little time that they shared before Mira had to go, Robin gave him a piece of paper for her to read. It was a poem written by him, to be read later.

Mira’s father had hosted a big party to celebrate her graduation and she had to go to the parlour before heading for home. She was instructed to smile at all and be coy enough to be appreciated. Mira endured it all, with all the right moves and manners. She was longing to be alone to read the note.

Past midnight, when she was with herself, she read the note. It was a poem written by Robin –

It wasn’t the first time I saw her.

It wasn’t the first time
she spoke like music
laughed like joy
smelt like a flower
and moved like gentle breeze.

It wasn’t the first time I touched her.
It wasn’t the first time I felt
her long silken hair brush my face
her soft gentle hands over me
her warm breath over mine
her lips meeting mine.
It wasn’t the first time I felt sheer ecstasy.

It wasn’t the first time I thought – she’s mine.
It wasn’t the first time I said – you’re mine.

It wasn’t the first time
she left me alone
at the end of the dream.

Mira stared at it and when she woke up, the paper had flown away under the table. She picked it up and kept it in her diary after reading it for, she had lost count of it. They met at the coffee-shop, and had not spoken for quite a long time.

Finally, Mira broke the silence and suggested she leave. She had to leave as she had to pack. Pack? She was leaving for Goa the next day, where she was going to be engaged to the son of a liquor baron, who had just earned his MBA from US of A. Did she know about it? Just before the party, when her mother had told her about it – told not asked.

Mira left.

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