Just b-e-l-i-e-v-e!

August is sinister I would not call it a month of green love and blessings it brings night to a sunny day and who cares for those houses that swim away it was only yesterday August had not come, I would feel joy under their cheeks swelled up cautiously and sleep on eye brow for peaceful days and dreams of green green meadow where are they? where are the happy days? this havoc, the flood of pain, is the same water, you rejoiced in and prayed for days after days Summer was better they all said, sighed and hoped for another season to dawn. hope, once and ever, we only have to have.

At present - I am culling mustard seeds rolling in a plate creating - different shapes - On each slide - a different art. And this means nothing to anybody, to them Who keep asking me - What do you do?

The words I did not speak had become a fine powder. Crimson. This is only about me. I am sorry. The naked 'maang' stares in the mirror, in my day-visions. I will act like a lover and this will be over. But then, I learnt to cook, I fancied each afternoon, that 'someone' would come and I will arrange all things perfectly. A round table decorated with blue pottery, vases of fresh flowers, handmade pickles and chutneys in tiny clay jars, food along with desserts. That, you feel being in Paris. I wanted to design a heaven for 'someone'. A garden for happy souls. You said, "You are weird." I thought, "You were talking to my dreams."

I fold pain press gently its crevices, I keep it in wardrobe, fresh, fragrant. But in a couple of days, it is again hung outside, in gallery for people to see what it looks like ; what color pain, I have ; what size big it is... I fold it again, again and again, till it is no more a pain in itself.

Don't complicate Let chapati be a chapati Your moon be a moon Of late, I have been disliking the taste of moon. It sticks to the ceiling of mouth and bites dead teeth and eats cavity. It doesn't leave my mouth easily. Now Don't be that moon please! Darling We are already good chapatis.

I had you on dinner I served you all dishes and waited by your side ; at one point, I gazed like Rose, standing at the deck of Titanic, into the deep blue waters of Atlantic. Not sure why! though I gazed and in a hazy memory I remember we drifted apart, in that very moment.

The nod. The flame goes high. I burnt my hand, almost. Last week, it was my neck. and I have burnt marks all over yet, I come, as if I am hypnotized by this flame.

I resist, looking into          the penetrating eyes of mobile, I escape,          it's alluring ways of making me familiar with those who too escape.     I resist, using mobile, to watch         the paint blue sky devouring         all other pretty bright colors on the horizon. The blue eats up all, (a bad masculine habit) I paint those cheerful colors ;            Yellow, Orange, Pink, back into my mobile. Escape of another kind.

They think I sacrificed 'They are too naive' I think. Or I am too naive in thinking that?  ---- An angel appeared last night in my dream and asked , " why you roam alone in this land of love where's love is all and an end?" I, out of my wits tossed and turned in my bed just as I was about to make a wish The angel disappeared.