At the Jehan Numa hotel in Bhopal

In that day’s laughing wind and rain the trees waved helplessly on my window. Television’s spiritual lady separated my spirit from my morbid mind, body and intellect buffeted by a moist wind-blown illness.

In this history of room the royals must be reveling ,separated by sunless fog-screens of time .The wind howled through the night .My consciousness grappled with the body.

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