feathers dipped in
sky lie by the side
of a sandy road,
clouds slathered
in red mud tread
across the twilight
hour, in the glass
window of a parked
car, there is a stir of
flight as a jungle crow
swoops down over a
dead mouse; a young
girl smelling of scented
flowers passes by, softlike the rains last night
C'est La Vie...Really?
Seven peacocks sit on the parapet of our terrace fronting the bay. A murder of crows spearing into the morning silence flies past chasing a hungry Brahminy kite who desires absolutely nothing but a clutch of eggs for breakfast. The jails in the country are packed with sloganeering opposition leaders, journalists, activists, and to use everyone's favorite term, 'pseudo-intellectuals'. As elections draw near, the dire need to quash all competition has arisen within the alpha party. More than six months on, the war wages on in the Holy Land. Yet, the country responsible for it, stands fifth on the World happiness index! According to the United Nations, more than a million people are likely to suffer from starvation in the war-torn region since aid is not being able to reach the affected populace because of innumerable road blocks. It rained last night. An out of season shower, which brought the peacocks out of the coconut grove. The cashew tree now laden with fruits, spa
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