The sun, suspended like a bat
on the fish-net,
fixed on the Bharali*
was eyeing us all along.

A shoal of fries,
finding us beside,
sprang like a fountain of light.

The Bharali moved ahead
throwing at us, time and again,
sidelong glances
with the eyes of a fry.

Time quaked
as a pointer of seconds
on the caudal end of a wag-tail.

In the heart of that afternoon
spread out across the horizon
we lost ourselves,
When we discovered one another,
I was you, and you were the river!
Clutching onto the wag-tails rear
we remained fluttering.

*Bharali or Bharalu – a river of Assam.