Known-unknown intentions

6am, it was the break of dawn. A cool winter morning, the narrow lanes still dimly lit from solar street lights.

Madhavi grathered dots of rice flour. In a geometry of stars, lotuses, diamonds and hexagons. She weaved them symmetrically on the damp floor, like every other day, of her morning ritual.

And like everyday, Devan stared at her from his balcony. Her wet curls tightly tied in a cloth bun. A few loose curls disobediently disturbing her face which she occasionally brushed aside with the back of her rice covered arm. Her saree worn carelessly and the pallu tucked into her waist. He could see her curvaceously wide waist and small rolls of skin ever so slightly with every calculated movement of her arms.

Devan just watched her, like he always did with a cup of coffee that had gone cold from waiting far too long to take a sip. And as she continued to weave the final stroke she looked up. Their eyes met, like they always did. And he held up his cup acknowledging her. She nodded a smile and turned away. She smiled wider knowing his eyes are on her bare back as she pulled her loosened bun away from her neck.

It had been years. Wonderful lives. Perfect families. Yet they fell in love. They fought it, ignored it, tried to run away from the thrill of the forbidden. But the all powering force continued to defy all sense of logic and so called moral values.

Her wet damp kolams had all the physics and mathematics weaved into it in all it's grids and lines. A woman as complicated as her kolams. And a man who longed to be understood. He felt as light as a child in her arms and she felt like a goddess worshiped by a man so strong yet weak only for her.

Their lives continued, complicated like the kolams she drew everyday. A dance of tip-toes and careful feet that walk around and ants and insects that lace around the lines and curves. In an intricate pattern of known and unknown intentions.