A small gesture of prayers to those in Nepal.

PAPER KITES - Faded colours of Nepal



Meena Kumar got into a cab towards Pashupathinath temple, her eyes vacantly moving through the streets and shops. She looked into her purse to pay the cab driver and found just some coins in the purse. It shook her a bit and she no longer remembered where the rupee notes had disappeared. She had just withdrawn money from the bank and put it inside her purse. Meena kept thinking while her destination had arrived, the driver looked back at her waiting for his fare. She puckered her lips and sighed, held herself with utmost dignity and told the cab driver that she had lost the money and had nothing to offer except a few coins. The driver knew she wasn't lying and asked her to pay when she gets home and dropped his card with number.

These doors were flights of fantasy to which one could yield and drip every wing and bask in the warmth of yellow rays.

Into the realm of freedom, she took flight as a bird would at the break of dawn. Carrying a pot of gold on her head, dropping a coin or two on her way through the winding path to the lake. Meeting green friends dabbed with flowers of red and blue, talking to the naive pigeons and robust roosters, the mud beneath her feet glistened.The day dawned and the sun shining above her head. Meena put the basket down and prayed by the lake. The basket of flowers glistening, the herons and crows flying across the blue sky. She let the pot of flowers float in the river and saw it sink in the middle.

The colours that were few, lost themselves in her hands and became a thought, a wish and sometimes her boredom to glitch. She obsessed with colours almost like a deafened woman with a spirit of air and lightness of feathers, she held them close to her bosom like a mother would hold her babe. These colours were her economy for life, her breath emerged and her soul took flight. She wished many a good samaritan but couldn't find one herself! Love,marriage,people gave her strength and agility that she many a times dismissed. Locked in her castle was she, with colours playing gods and dreams.

What a lofty soul was she, who never paid heed to anyone but him. Misery dawned upon them one day, she knew nothing of it. Long awaited silence and then suddenly a day came when she poured out all her colours into the stream, they were yellow , blue and green mixing in the light beneath her wings.

Smiling and leaving this world was she, her aching soul moaning to be.

She departed one fine day, with a glimpse of her unchosen dreams.

Jyotsna Rao
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