I was fascinated by the intent look on amma's face when she was preparing the tea..the face void of any expressions..she took the same time my mom takes to prepare tea...we asked for 3 cups of coffee and 2 cups of tea..aliens in her territory, she was enjoying the barriers of communication..and strangely even me. We were happlily conversing in sign language. With just one stove to heat the milk and the tea..she was trying hard not to dissatisfy her customers..wracking up and being very cautious about the next move she had to make..Amused by her very sincerity, i stood by her just to watch her every move. With the right amount of coffee and milk, though a little bit of extra sugar, she satiated our very need for something to unwrap our hibernating brains.

Sipping the hot tea, brought back those sweet nothings...and blazing behind her i could witness the "lust of the maiden infinity: the sunset"..it made me feel so pure..so i decided to capture the entire scene into a definite memory..

And when i showed amma the picture that i have taken..she broke down into a childlike laughter..giggling and nodding..pointing to the picture and describing in sign language,"I am there"

Freedom, Tricolor and the Pride…

Khadi clad visioners,

Heaving bossoms and umpteen dreams.

The wind calls to the unison of our feet.

As we march for freedom.

Men our kindred and freedom our home…

Dressed in that tranquil veil of hope,

We search for salvation.

As the messiah of moments plays in its vice.

With pride for my country whose lustre is shed.

Freedom is here.

Slays and shines, with the armor of dominance.

She echoes to the calls of us Indians.

She soars with renunciation, truth and fertility.

Our Tricolor, Our life.

The intoxicating sweet oils of freedom,

Is saturated in our bloods.

Proud we are, as farmers, as Indians.

Let this pride rule,

In platters of celebration.

And Independence.

Survival and Smoke....

With a strike of the match,

I light that very essence of my survival...

Salvation and Sanity....

Blossoms in my chest again.

It sparks in its fake aggression,

And I drag it to ash.

Pride begone and pride restored.

I gaze at that floating blanket of life...

As it snakes from my mouth to my nostrils.

Only to mate with the air. .

Leaving flavours of emotions on my lips.

I lust for that kiss of death.

Yet I kiss it again.

So I hum the obsequies

For the peace of my soul.

Let the nicotine play its arrogance on its traces.

As it lets its body burn to death.

For the rebirth of me.