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By Pustak Mahal


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Two threads of lives lay there coiled into a single entity flickering like an eternal flame. The clock ceased movement. Night froze in silence. Sindhu clasped Samsara with frantic desperation. She breathed his sweat, love and obsession. “I shall not go away…” Samsara murmured with a feeble hint of smile. Sindhu released her slowly and pleaded, “Please…don’t”. “But should I not go back tonight?” Sindhu fell silent and nodded like a subjugated infant, “Yes”. “You know Sindhu… my life is like a weed rooted on barren soil anchored with mindless resolve.” “I know,” replied Sindhu staring blankly into the space. “Yet I am a human but not a weed. Often I long to get lost… lost in some faraway land at least for some time.” Sindhu laughed, “There is the mistake my dear. If you know the way back, you are not lost. Are you? If you are lost… you can never get back. So…it cannot be for some time…if at all…forever.”

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