One day there were rains and heavy winds. I like it
The winds swept through the windows and started hitting at my collage...it was on stiff cardboard and rarely moved from its rather stoical position. But as I sat there writing, it was striking at the wall, beating itself in agony. I did not get up to straighten it, hold it, soothe it into place, fix it to the wall at the bottom end.
I did nothing...just watched it, sometimes dancing like a dervish in madness, sometimes looking like it wanted to fall and die. After all, it existed as bits and pieces of my imagination, forced into a whole.
I did nothing. I looked into the mirror. Another collage. Winds lashed against my face. Madness. Agony. Bits and pieces. Within. Without.
“Zakhm kucchh aise miley
Phoolon pe soya na gaya...”