I am a drop of water that fell from the sky on the river of time. Flowing down the endless meandering river sometimes fast at times slow till I vaporise to join the sky. Some day I will come back again as another drop on the same river of time.
The roads are strewn with crimson and ochre petals. The last journey of the drop, Manikarnika beckons. The setting rays of the sun, the leaping flames of the pyre and the return to clay. Every chapter always ends the same way.
The hands of the flowing river of time will turn the page and a new chapter will begin again, a new story, a new play. But it will end the same way. Manikarnika knows and so does the setting sun.
a pinch of this and a sprinkle of that 