I could smell it all,
the dust, ashes and
the ghosts of Mehrauli...
This raging storm
— the summer kind —
awakened 'em all tonight,
a li'l past midnight.
But all I sensed was the stench
from the rotten, sinful
human spirit yonder.
Oh, stop shuddering
my timid window, my heart,
this is but temporary...
Permanence is in the other
tempest, the face of reality;
the one that makes the wind
seem a better man than men.
It exudes love,
allows my wind chime to sing,
and my daughter to sleep.
-- Leslie Xavier
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