A deep overcast covered the night sky,
hiding the moon and the stars behind,
away from my sight-
just like a mother,
hiding her infant from the unholy vision,
behind the pallu of her saree,
over her tired breasts.
Lightning sparkled,
ornamenting the dark cloud
and within a fraction of second it disappeared,
turning the cloud into a widow
sitting in front of the frozen body
of her husband with eyes numbed,
struggling to make the first drop
of her tears,
leading to a complete downpour,
fall.
And as soon as that first drop touched the soil,
a mysterious aroma of a forlorn glee was born.


A gentle gust of wind blowing from the West,
carried an uncertainty with it.
The uncertainty in the mind of the boatsmen,
rowing along the violent calmness of the sea.
The wind carried a melancholy.
The grief of a tranquil tempest.
The rain drops started falling more violently
over the soil,
trying to hold those eroded particle together
but instead making them more scattered,
just like an over possessive husband
trying to hold his wife
while pushing her heart apart.
The rain drops kept falling in a rhythm. ...