Every morning Usha goes about waking this world.
Quietly she walks about, her mood turning the world grey,
making it churn with restlessness.
You see, Arun is so far away still!

She becomes happier as the moments pass.
“He will have woken up now,” she thinks.
“He is stepping out into the courtyard.”
She sees him get into the chariot; gather the reins in his hands.
“He is coming” she gasps, and her blush suffuses the world.

She darts over the earth confusedly, happily.
All of life echoes her heartbeat, “Arun! Arun!”
And he comes! A fleeting glance and then he passes by her
performing his duty as the charioteer of the Sun.

Usha loves Arun. Totally, unabashedly.
He occupies her being, colours her life
If he were not to appear, the world would be darkened
with her despair, plunged into chaos by her confusion.

And Arun? He loves her. Totally, undoubtedly.
If Usha were not to greet her lover one morning
He would feel a pang of regret, miss seeing her stand there.
But those calm and sure hands would not falter at the reins,
And on and on across the skies the horses would thunder.