By Namratha Varadharajan
No not love at first sight nor in the first night But slowly over the years A walk in the neighbourhood under monsoon skies when you made me laugh so loud it must have woken up the sky A summer of growing tomatoes on the balcony and harvesting four teeny tiny ones, cooking rasam* with it and feeling so proud Holding hands in a distant land but never stealing even a peck outdoors to slobbering over our babies until they scream “No more!” Reading and writing in a silence that hugs Slow dancing our way through life until spooning grows to mean coming home Slowly, but surely moments weave us together to be one in love Slowly, but surely till the end. *Spicy South Indian soup
Namratha Varadharajan writes to explore human emotions and our connection with nature while trying to chip at prejudices that plague us, one syllable at a time. She has been published in The Yearbook of Indian Poetry 2021, The Kali Project, The Gulmohar Quarterly, The Alipore Post, among others.
Borderless 