Don’t ask me. The day continues to be bad. A Bay of Bengal cyclone continues to rage in my under-belly, with the cyclicality of ten hours or so between four hour episodes.
Tomorrow I will have a live camera inserted in my belly , while I will keep my mouth agape. The camera shall bring out any delinquent stuff that is inside.
At the sea there were ants of bathing people. On the night of Shiva, Shiva eats poison for the world’s sake and the world shall take sacred bath and keep vigil all through the night. Just to keep up morale.
Shiva freezes poison in his throat. He turns blue, like the blue sky hanging on the sea I feel in my balcony. Like the Shiva actor roaming the streets for the entertainment of passersby and
his livelihood. Like the blues the office-goers sport on their sun-tanned faces on Mondays.