He thought he knew his very best
he wore a dagger up his  sleeves

He thought he was number one
he rode untamed like a hurricane

Tumultuous smoke from the funeral pyre rose upwards, blending with grey smog that already hung over the groaning city of Kathmandu. A sharp bitter smell assailed Hari’s nostrils almost choking him, but he gulped it down like water, and his eyes stung from smoke. Only yesterday Geeta had been there with him, bright and jovial when she was at her best, foul-tempered and bickering when she was at her worst but, she had been there and her presence in his life had made a conspicuous difference.

Lewis Caroll once said, “the things most people wan t to know about are usually none of their business.” I find this quote increasingly substantial as far as its nature is concerned. It is  true indeed  that we are all interested in other people’s matters when our own matters need utmost care.

Light candles and oil lamps, switch on your colourful lights!
chase away the gloom of a dark-dark night.
Fire away the crackers and rejoice and mourn,
for lives that are beginning and for ones that are gone.
Look to the sky and watch and wait,
for a miracle, a sign, of the figure eight.
The loops on it are but constancy,
of a reminder of kings and paupers we’re all meant to be.