SUNDAY MUSING: The bamboos were dark... The sky was sombre, So also were everybody's faces.

Isn't she brave? Is it not for her, the state tolls its bells? She goes to the battlefield, when everyone stays shut.

Because I never waited for him to get up.

'Will the arc of our story like the rainbow bend... Back on the intended road to sorrow’s end...'

Pelting my face to a glistening ruby gleam, Rinsing my hair to a gleaming ebony sheen, Soaking my soul like nourishing comfort soups...