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Winter

The spiders and the roaches beat a retreat As November moves on to gnarled mists. They are not like the human beings And cannot put on layers to suit the season. Man is the crown of God’s creation ‘cause he can add on layers and beat the season. His smile can shine through the mist With a dagger tucked away behind the mask. Masks and layers make life’s winter warm And conceal the colour deep down While we fumble through the mist Searching for the very same colour.

Twilights

The other day I was in Nehru Place, Delhi, one of the largest computer markets in the world.   I wanted to get a printer cartridge refilled.  People jostled against one another in the crowded squares lined on every side with shops selling computers, accessories and other related goods.  The genuine goods competed with the counterfeit in attracting buyers.  Bargains were driven in like heartless hammer blows until the counterfeit items made mostly in China –  before India got a Prime Minister who would popularise a new slogan “Make in India” – found their actual prices.  Suddenly a mellifluous chanting of Hare Rama, Hare Krishna rose above the hum of bargains and deals.  The chanting was accompanied by some musical instruments too.  While my HP cartridge was being injected with counterfeit ink, my eyes roved in the direction of the Hare Rama, Hare Krishna .  A band of foreigners attired in Indian style was chanting the mantra in apparent spiritual ecstasy.  They had attract