Hindu Brahmin with a Muslim name, She was born to defy destiny. She fretted over the fas-fis of her silk dupatta flowing like the Brahmaputra, the Ithmid around her eyes dancing with every moment. Her dark eyebrows were wings to a big red dot, and her hair fell down like roots of the peepal tree. Dusky little dainty little dreamy little something. It often felt like she craved care Perhaps, of a man who would throw veils around her which only he could enter. The undertones of her profound speech about being powerful like Durga told them of it. The puny buildings of society tried to wash over the span of her bejeweled minaret,   atop which she screamed the ideas that were only her own echoing the same indifference. She spoke of Unity Rich with visions about tomorrow Wrote volumes, made paintings that conveyed extraordinary desires They laughed at her folly. So she threw herself in the books And found a Vedic Allah They pulled out h

One by one  Escape of essence  First, the vapor leaves it To meticulously coat  Realm by realm, new residents of the past You will feel it when you inhale  Dampness.  Second, the Amber in it's waves dissolves into Violet  And like two positives you repel each other from across the vacuum of a magnetic field  You will feel it when you no longer sense a simple butterfly resting on your eyelid.  Third, the brisk handshake becomes a sagging how-do-you-do  Graceless, until it loses its tangibility.   You will feel it when invisibility gropes Air.