"It is only thunder in our walls, it happens sometimes" said Arun tapping vigourously his fingers in his pockets.

"Oh yeah! but I see the leaves fall everyday, is it because the thunder eats them?" asked his friend
reminding him all those naked trees by his house.

Arun pulled all his face in one centre, and said:

I have the odd days like everyone for f*** sake!
I want to control my thougths now, they are shooting only breath to the hell of my being.
I have given it to the time to heal this
perhaps, maybe I just don't know?
These emotions of mine ravaged by the obnoxious fumes that came about from the four walls of my early exsistence, a spoonful of stones in my mouth.

"Drink some water! and if I may ask you to knock off weeds from your soul by accepting the road
you have hardly walked, even when the moon was up, dividing a silver strip river, moving towards the ocean where a palm full of love still awaits you."

What is love?

Arun took hands out of his pocket
and the very canvas of his being started
to glow like fire.
From the hedges of his sterile spirits came jumping the words.
"It is neither the thunder that can shake these walls nor the leaves that can abandon these trees,"
A song of these four walls
to which I must listen again and again.



Copyright 2007 Roshan Tulachan