Nowadays, often I have this recurrent feeling
that I , by myself, am an empty cell;
which gets filled by all those tired evenings
which walk away silently at the dawn.
Without a trace , just as nomads do,
with no roots to hold them down, 
no obligations either to make them
look back, hesitate, then mumble , "Sorry".
Sometimes it also so happens that 
small joys, like loose changes seek refuge
with me , most probably as a mistake
guided by the magical moonlit nights
and expecting an one night stand,
they tiptoe inside the extended courtyard.
Still there is so much confusion abound
in the common perception of people 
about love, commitment and happiness.
Even after the catastrophe of bondage,
festering as the aftermath of relations,
there is a constant buzz of expectations; like,
flies hovering on a big, fat, overripe jackfruit.
The mesh of compulsions strewn around
to trap the unwary are nets that are useless
when the boat reaches the estuary.
So live with all these apparent fallacies 
as long as you can live through them .