Whirl in the air,
As if a nameless spirit is searching,
re-searching the home of it's previous birth...
And the Afternoon sings a gloomy song -
of a distant land,
of those thirsty cries that goes after a mirage...
Calling for water, for cloud, for rain...
The 'Chatak' starts circling the hot sky...
In a vain despair !
The pigeon-pair in my window pane
seems to nod their head,
As if they have read my heart...
They flap their wings,
Once, twice, but did not fly...
The distant chiming of Camel Anklet...
Comes closer now...
The nameless spirit sits beside me,
Somewhere nearby,
I can hear it's pale breathing...
and the the known silent smile...
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