I shall wait , my love,

for you to return, (she wrote)

even as i pass through those doors that take me

away from you

to my other Beloved -

Death

She runs to his open arms -

and disappears -

Like the first drop of rain kissing the scorched summer earth !

One thousand Dushashans

A thousand Dushashans

Stripping women cloth by cloth.

In their tearful agony,

They cry and wail. Disrobed and dishonoured.

A strange world where everyone is- either Gandhari or Dhrithrashtra.

Or bound in their debts of apathy.

No Krishna this time , woman

You must stand (yourself), to protect your honour.

Let they fear your wrath. Pick your choicest weapon.

Yagnaseni, you are born from fire. From Sati to Kali transform.