He waits for the dark to engulf him. He finds that rather safe. The moonlight sways to tease his eye but gets lost in the alley’s haze. She walks alone, her home in sight of the city that’s asleep. He makes his move. Under the street lamps high, he bids to daunt her grace. She fends him off. "That daring bitch! How dare she stay out late! And then to say she’s not for takes ... what insolent craze!" A city swells in loud lament, its reputation at stake! What’s changed so much? Why do evils rise now from celebrations’ daze? "The winter’s winds are warmer", you say, "And the streets are rife with life!" What one would think as grand design is another’s watcher’s maze. You blame the wind, the people new. You blame the men in chair, w...
A pantomime to the tunes of our frenetic everyday, Kallola is dedicated to the urban mind. It is a commentary and observation of society, of culture, of tradition... of suggestion and hope. Because when time overtakes time, as it is wont to do, we realise that the rules are always the same - we just play our strokes differently. © 2008-2021 tejuthy.blogspot.com Any part of this blog when shared, copied or referred to in any format, must bear due credit to tejuthy.blogspot.com