Nachtvlinders : Night Moths

Just Fiction

Evening time.

"Hi, I am Arth," I said as I introduced myself to my roommates.

I am an engineer, and I am on a work trip to Germany. This was my first time outside India, so I wanted to explore Germany, starting with Munich, the place where beer runs in everyone’s veins. I booked my stay in a hostel in Munich, as that was the cheapest option available. I did not want to spend too much on my stay; instead, I wanted to spend more on experiences. Also, it meant I would get to meet new people, which I eventually did; I met Bieke and Chris. Bieke was Dutch, and Chris was American. In the list of foreigners I had met, I had people from Sweden and Germany; people from the Netherlands and America just got added. Once I was done introducing myself and telling them why I was here, Bieke and Chris did the same, and I got to know why they were here. Chris was interning with the "History Channel", so he was in Munich to document the lives of tour guides in Europe. He told me he came here from Paris, where he started his journey documenting the lives of tour guides. Bieke was a mixologist (a cocktail expert) who had come here in search of work from Amsterdam. We talked for a while and got to know each other better.

Chris had booked a beer brewery crawl experience and invited us to join him. We freshened up and got ready to explore Munich, its people, food, and beer. Bieke was wearing a white, sleeveless crop top and a beige skirt. Chris and I were wearing black T-shirts, but he was wearing chinos, and I was wearing blue jeans. We walked to the place where we were supposed to meet our tour guide, who would take us to different breweries. The guide was waiting for us, along with a few other members who would join us. We reached there and met our guide, "Dan," and other members, who were all from America. Dan asked us to make a circle around him and explained what we would be doing for the next few hours. We took the S-Bahn and reached our first brewery, named ‘Paulaner Brauhaus.’ The only beer I tried before was Kingfisher, but when I tried Paulaner beer, it tasted different; it had hints of pineapple and mango and had the perfect balance of bitterness and sweetness. Chris asked immediately after taking a sip if anyone was ready to do a bottoms-up challenge with him, to which Dan and Bridget agreed; Bridget was one of the members. Everyone started shouting, "Chug, chug, chug." Chris, Dan, and Bridget started to drink their beer, with Chris spilling most of it out, but surprisingly, Bridget was the one to finish the beer first, and Dan was the last one to finish. Dan’s mustache was covered by the beer froth; he looked closer to Santa Claus than Dan himself. We all shared a laugh, ate pommes (French fries), and finished our beer.

Next, we were going to a very old brewery named ‘Augustiner.’ It was closer to "Paulaner Brauhaus," so we walked to that place, but before we left for Augustiner, Dan made pairs in the group so that we did not get lost while walking through the crowd. I was paired with Bridget, and Bieke and Chris were paired together. We reached there, and luckily there was a table already booked for us. The interesting part about that table set-up was that they had replaced the chairs with barrels in which they stored beer. The glasses here were bigger than the ones we had at Paulaner. They were almost the size of my forearm, and I was scared I would get high once I had it, which I eventually did. Bridget snapped her fingers in front of me and asked, "What are you staring at? Come on, drink it." Then we both started drinking and eating pretzels that were kept in front of us. That was the first time I had pretzels, and they tasted so damn good. They looked like pigs’ noses, and I kept one against my nose and started snorting and grunting like a pig. By then, I was a bit high, and for some reason, I felt free—free from judgment, free from all inhibition.

We all somehow managed to finish the huge glass of beer, and we were tired and needed some fresh air, so we came out and walked towards this giant red ring structure, which was in an open space. It was called Der Ring, a structure in Old Munich. There were a few people there, sitting on their camping chairs and listening to music. Bridget, Chris, Bieke, and I started dancing to the music (I Shazamed and found the name of the song: "Een Klien Beetje Geluk" by Ali B). It was crazy; we were all sweating and clearly out of breath, which was totally opposite to our idea of getting some fresh air. But it was an experience I will never forget—the girls swaying their hair, we guys opening our tongues, almost creating a Naagin dance of our own. Finally, we stopped and sat on the ground next to the people who were camping there. Dan shouted from far away and asked us to join him for the last brewery on our planned tour, but we decided to explore the nightlife of the city instead and asked Dan to leave with the others. We walked around and found people painting graffiti on the walls. We joined them and spray-painted the walls. The place was lit with green light, and the art on the walls looked amazing. I suggested we leave a mark of us on the wall and asked one of the graffiti artists there to trace our shadows on the wall with spray paint, on which we wrote "Freie Seelen," which means "Free Souls" in German.

We were tired of walking, so we went to an open park full of trees. It was a beautiful sight. As we lay down on the ground side by side, staring at the night sky, a light breeze swept over us, which felt good. As I was sleepy and had planned a trip to Austria the next day, I asked Chris and Bieke if we could leave. Bieke agreed to come with me, but Chris wanted to stay there for some more time, so Bridget and Chris stayed.

Bieke and I took the S-Bahn to the nearest station to our stay and walked to our hostel room. Throughout our walk, she held my hand and kept her head on my shoulder. We walked into our room, and I sat on my bed. Bieke played music on her phone (Nachtvlinder by Bokoesam started playing). Bieke started grooving to it; she was feeling the beats make their way through her body. Her half-tied hair and half-messed-up bun started falling apart, forming various strands that slowly started invading her face, and that is when I entered the scene.

The air was intoxicated with the smell of beer, and the moonlight through the huge windows filled our hostel room, creating a gloomy film around us. I tucked the lock of her hair over her ear to see her face and found her staring at me with her deep blue eyes. We sat there in silence, and just when I was about to say something, she kissed me. The touch of her lips on mine sent shivers down my spine. It was magical, the most memorable experience I had in Munich.

We broke the kiss and stared at each other for a moment, both feeling the electricity in the air. Without saying a word, we lay down on the bed, held each other's hands, and drifted off to sleep.

Love Germany

 

 -Darshan Shanbhag 

Find my stories here: https://shanbhaaag.blogspot.com/ 

 

 

Gopi

*To make the reading experience better listen to the song “Unnoda Vazha” by Anna Katharina while reading. 

With “Unnoda Vazha” by Anna Katharina playing in his ears, Dhyan starts his walk towards the park; he tries to jump on the Hopscotch squares that filled the road in front of his rented flat like a stuck Tetris game. While he crosses the main road, he comes across this beautiful house named "Akashaganga." He stops and sees the cage filled with birds and fish in the aquarium outside the house. With the right colour combination and perfect plants, the house had its exterior aesthetics set right. While gazing through the wavy patterns on the walls, Dhyan saw a brown thing move on the balcony; that brown thing was none other than a playful golden retriever with beautiful amber eyes, and exactly at that moment the lines "Unn Kannil vaazhgiren" from the song playing in his ears peaked. Dhyan waved his hands, and the dog started barking, to which its owner, a woman in her mid-40s, came out to the balcony. She saw Dhyan, and suddenly her face changed from being annoyed by the dog's bark to a mix of shock and blank face. Looking at her expression, Dhyan thought he shouldn’t stand there anymore and continued his walk towards the park.

 

Since his last encounter with the dog; Dhyan, everytime he crossed that house looked at the balcony, and waited for that beautifully shaped fur ball to appear. But he failed every time. One day, when Dhyan was crossing the house with no hope of seeing that dog, a bark of happiness filled his ears, and a smile spread across his face. Dhyan looked up to the balcony and found the dog jumping around, looking at him. There was a man in his late 40s with the dog, asking it to calm down. Dhyan waved at the man and asked, "Hi uncle, what’s the dog’s name?" He replied that his name is "Gopi." Dhyan smiled and started calling "Gopiiii…. Gopiii" "Gopiii." Then Gopi started barking and jumping around even more. Suddenly, he ran inside the house and got his squeaky bone toy; Uncle saw that and told Dhyan he wants to play with you, come up. Dhyan got excited. He ran and took the stairs to the balcony. On the way, he said hi to all the birds that were chirping in the cage. He reached the balcony, and Gopi didn’t even wait for Dhyan to catch his breath; he straight away jumped on him. Gopi was one and a half years young, and with his tail waging like a helicopter, he was filled with lots of bouncy energy. His fur looked like a wave of mud with an anime filter. He got down soon and ran towards his toy bone and got it to Dhyan. Uncle told Dhyan to throw it, but he didn't; instead, he sat down on his knees and placed it on the back of his neck, and Gopi just jumped on his back and held the bone in his mouth. Uncle smiled and reached a level of happiness where his eyes where moist; It was only time it would have turned into drops of tears, he shouted "Sudha! Ill ba, nodu Gopi yen maadtidaane ("Sudha! Come here, look what Gopi is doing"), and a woman from inside came out drying her hands with a towel, saying "Yen ri?" (What?)" She sees Gopi on Dhyan’s back and starts laughing and says, "Yen maadthidiya Gopi Akshu benn mele?" (What are you doing on Akshu’s back, Gopi?) And then she looks at Dhyan’s face and realises that it was not Akshu; all of a sudden, she gives the same blank expression that Dhyan saw on her face the day he saw Gopi for the first time. Listening to the name “Akshu” from his wife’s mouth made the upward curve on uncle’s face lose the lift on the either ends resulting in a downward curve, he somehow pulled the ends and with a serious tone said "Sudha, avn namm Akshu alla (Sudha, he is not our Akshu)". Sudha Aunty took a short breath and asked Dhyan, "Yenappa ninn hesaru?” (“Son, What is your name?”) Dhyan replied, "Nann hesar Dhyan, aunty," (“My name is Dhyan, aunty” ) and she continued with a fusillade of questions like, "Where are you from?" What do you do? Where do you stay? Seeing aunty ask so many questions, Uncle stopped her and told her, "Sudha avnig mane wallag aadru kursi maatadsu (Sudha, at least let him sit inside and then you can continue with your questions."

 

 

Dhyan sat on the sofa, uncle and aunty sat on the chair, uncle asked Dhyan, "Do you want some water?" to which Dhyan replied, "No, uncle." Gopi slept on the carpet with his doll, which Dhyan later got to know was called "Twinkle." Sudha aunty looks at Dhyan, smiling at Gopi, and says, "He played with Akshu like he played with you today and slept with Twinkle beside him." Dhyan smiled and replied, "Is it?" Then he went on to ask, "By the way, aunty, who is Akshu?"

Then Uncle replied with a low voice, "He’s our son Akash; we called him Akshu," and Aunty continued, "You look like him." Dhyan asks, "Where is he now?" "What is he doing?" Uncle replied, "He left us last year." Dhyan replies, "Sorry, uncle, aunty." All three share a moment of silence. Aunty breaks the silence by asking Dhyan, "You drink coffee or tea?" Dhyan replies, "No, Aunty, I don’t want anything; I will leave now; I have to go for a walk." Listening to the word "walk," Gopi gets up and starts being Gopi. Aunty asks Dhyan, "Can you also take Gopi with you?" Dhyan replies, "Yes, aunty." Sudha aunty attaches the leash to Gopi’s collar, and Uncle and Gopi go for a walk with Dhyan.

 

Do you let me know how you felt after reading.

Also, if you liked this; please read my other blogs & stories too.

-Darshan Shanbhag  

The Walk of Cats

EXT NIGHT

29 December 2022: After having dinner at a Japanese restaurant, Anne and D, along with their friends, are going back to their Airbnb stay in Chennai. They decided to walk back to the stay because it was close by.Anne and D’s friends suggest they order ice cream before they start walking so that by the time they reach the Airbnb, the ice cream is already there. So everyone orders the ice cream flavours that they like and have never tried before and starts walking towards the Airbnb.

Anne and D walk together in front, with their couple friends behind them.

D wanted to ask a question that had been circling his curious mind since the day Anne told him she liked cats. As D was a dog person and didn’t get a chance to understand or experience how it feels to be with cats, he asks Anne:

 

D: Hey Anne, I have a question for you.

 

Anne: Go ahead.

 

D: Why do you like cats?

 

Anne: Cats, that’s an interesting question.

 

D: Hmm.

 

Anne: Actually, I used to hate cats.

 

D: Interesting, then?

 

Anne: There’s a story behind it.

 

D: Accha!

 

Anne: Haan. So a few months ago, I saw a kitten on the road that had been abandoned by its mother. I don’t know what made her do that. But yeah, I saw this kitten. It was injured in places while trying to move out of the waste thrown around it. It was white and bright. It looked as if a pearl had emerged from a dustbin. Lying near an electric pole, it cried for help. My friends and I brought it to our PG. That’s also an interesting story.

 

D: Ohhh! I am all ears.

 

Anne: So we brought the cat to the PG, but no pets were allowed there. (Anne giggles.)  Then what we did was wrap the kitten in a shawl and put it in our backpack. Everything was set except for the part where the cat might purr and the warden would get alerted. And that is when my genius comes in. I started watching some cat videos on YouTube and walked towards my room with my roommate and the kitty in my backpack.

 

D: hahaha. Are you serious?

 

Anne: Yes, it felt like I was on a mission like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.

 

D: Wah! My Ethan hunt; aur uske baad?

 

Anne: Uske baad kya, we entered the room and kitten ko bahar nikaala.

 

D:Accha!

 

Anne: Haanji. Till that particular moment, I hated cats, but the cute cat changed my mind; he was so happy after we cleaned his wounds and looked after him.

 

D: He’s a HE.

 

Anne: Yes, a he. He used to follow me around the room. He slept on the window sill at night, and by the time it was morning, he would be on the bed, sleeping near my head. I would see a zoomed-in and blurred version of his tiny paws as I opened my eyes every morning. Acting like a head heater, he had become my everything for a few days. We decided to take him to the shelter, and later he found a home. I was very happy for him.

 

D: Oh! Did you meet him recently?

 

Anne: No,(taking a brief pause)I can’t. He is dead.

 

D: (*shocked*) What happened? How?

 

Anne: So he fell from the balcony of his home and .

 

D: (*D interrupts) That’s sad.

 

Anne: Anyways, that is how I met him and started liking cats, and whenever I see cats around, I get excited.

 

D: Yes, I have seen that excitement of yours whenever you see or talk about cats. By the way, did you name him?

 

Anne: Yes, I named him "Hope." He came into my life at a point where I needed that the most, and his entry gave me new hope. But once he went to his other home, the one who took care of him named him "Moon."

 

D: Oh! I see.

 

Anne: There was another cat there too, where Moon found his home. Here, look at this—this is him (Anne turns on her phone and shows a picture of Hope/Moon).

 

D: He's so cute! (🥹D’s face at that moment)

 

Anne: I know, right!

 

D: Yes, by the way, what is it that you liked about Hope?

 

Anne: Like?

 

D: I can give you an example: "Do you know Dhruv Sehgal?"

 

Anne: No.

 

D: Have you watched the show Little Things?

 

Anne: I have, but only a few episodes.

 

D: Great! So the hero of the show is Dhruv Sehgal, who is also the writer of the show.

 

Anne: Oh.

 

D: Yes, So he was asked in an interview that why did he like cats? And he told that they are mysterious.

 

Anne: Oh! So in that way, I like just the way they are and the little things they do.

 

D: Oh, I think you know this—that cats gift their caretakers a gift like fish or anything else they find and can carry in their mouth.

 

Anne: Yes, I do know this.

 

D: Hmm! (D smiles and, in his mind, thinks about the beautiful walk and conversation he just had.)

 

*Abhi Na Jao Chhoda Kar playing in the background

(Both reach the stay and disperse to their rooms)

-Darshan Shanbhag

Window Connection

 The dark night started to fade into different shades of orange when I got off the overnight bus I took from Dandeli to come back to Bengaluru. It was somewhere around 5:45 a.m. when I reached Bengaluru, and with a backpack and two handbags full of clothes, I walked towards the Kempegowda Bus Station. There I saw a bus to Ramamurthy Nagar waiting for me; the driver was revving the engine as if about to race, which he eventually did and came in first as there was no competition. I got into the bus, scanned the QR code to validate my pass, and took the window seat.

 

After a while, a few other passengers got in, and the much-anticipated race started. As the bus moved forward, its windows vibrated, creating a sense of music our teeth create on a winter morning, and that is when I heard someone singing, not so clearly but close to a whisper in a silent room. After concentrating hard on that voice, I found out that it was none other than the old man sitting in front of me; he was wearing a green and white striped woollen monkey cap and had wrapped himself in a grey shawl. I couldn’t see his face, but the extension of his spectacles made a good foreground on the cap he was wearing. The swift movement of the bus on the few good roads in Bengaluru helped intensify his voice a bit, which helped my ears identify the song he was singing. The song he was singing was "Chhu kar mere mann ko Kiya tuney kya ishaara." It felt like he was missing his special someone, and it was evident in his voice. After singing few lines he paused for a while and I felt it was my duty to keep Kishore Kumar vibe alive in the bus at this hour, so I started singing with a mellow voice trying to match the Old man’s voice "Kehna hai, Kehna hai, aaj tumse a Pehli baar o o o tumhi toh laayi o Jeevan may mere.." and the old man started moving his head it was like an approval from him. I ended up singing the few lines I knew, and the vibe we created continued to fill the air of near silence inside the bus, and its cradle-like movement just synced with our voices. Then he sang "Roopa Tera Mastaana" to which I replied with the song dear to my father, "Neele Neele ambar par." As my singing ended, we both sat quietly for a while, and I started observing him. He had a black backpack, and I too had one with me at the same time. I wondered if he was my older version who had travelled back in time to this very moment. My thoughts just started to build up, but the bus stopped; it was the old man’s stop.

 

He took his backpack and got down, and while getting down, he gave me a look with a smile as if we knew each other before. He was wearing specs with high-powered glass, and I could see the colour of his eyes clearly. Maybe this short journey was meant to be.

Thank you for reading.

Darshan Shanbhag

P.S. My brain played the song “Ore manwa tu toh bawara hai” while writing this.

Birds of Happiness: Part 1

 It was the sixth day of the new year, and Archit, who was tired of working, wanted to read a book that he had not read in a long time, Norwegian Wood, which was written by Haruki Murakami (* interesting fact: this book was translated twice into English, and Archit had the one translated by Jay Rubin). He had only read the first chapter of the book. So what he does is, at around 5 p.m., he shuts down his laptop and goes to the terrace of his rented place in Bengaluru. Along with the book, he also takes with him sticky notes and a pen to write down any line or word he likes from the book.

He begins re-reading chapter 1 because he had only read the first chapter a few weeks before.As he starts reading, he finds a beautiful line that reminds him of the person he met during his trip to Chennai and Pondicherry. He starts writing that line from the book on the sticky note, which says: "Deep within her own pupils, a heavy, black liquid swirled in a strange whirlpool pattern." He sticks that note to the very page of the book where he read that line in such a way that one could go back to that line at any point in time just by turning the page with the help of the sticky note. As he continues to read, he walks around the terrace, humming in his mind the song by The Beatles called, wait for it, "Norwegian Wood." 

*Humming… "I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me?" And suddenly he stops; his attention goes towards an old man who is on a different building exactly diagonal to him, where he is cleaning his terrace, and at the same time he hears birds chirping at a distance. Archit shifted to Bengaluru 4-5 months ago and had hardly been to the terrace of his building, and even if he did, it was during the night. So this was the first time he went to the terrace when there was some light from the sun lighting it up. This was also the first time he realised that there was a big cage, or one could say it was a bird house full of birds, on the terrace of another building. And that was the terrace of the building the old man was cleaning. He was bald, with a thick white beard on the lower end of his face, which looked like a crescent moon, and his eyes were lit by the orangish sky. With earphones on, he was brooming the terrace area, and it looked like he moved in a way as if he was about to hit a hook step on a beat.

 

Archit liked the way the birds chirped in sync with the sound of the broom that came out of each stroke of the broom on the floor. He came out of the symphony of brooms and birds and wanted to see the birds. So he moves closer to the old man’s building, trying to seek the old man’s attention to ask permission to come there and see the birds. He was a bit scared to ask the old man, so he tried to stare at the old man and read his book as if trying to telepathically convey his message, and, after a while of dancing glances, the old man looks at Archit, and Archit throws out the words that were stuck at the brink of his lips: "Sir, "Can I come there to watch the birds?" And the old man takes off his right earphone and asks, "What?" Then Archit breathes out the bit of fear he had and asks again. "Can I come there and see the birds?" he asked, to which the old man replied, "Sure, sure."

So Archit, without even acknowledging the old man’s answer, runs down to his home, keeps his book, stickies, and pen, and goes to the old man’s terrace.

 

Archit sees the big cage filled with birds of different colours and sizes sitting in pairs, fighting, kissing, and hanging upside down. Beside this cage stood the old man with a broom in his hand, smiling just enough to build a curved bridge across the ends of his lips. The first words that Archit uttered after looking at the man were "Thank you, sir." The old man comes close to Archit and asks, "What do you do?"

Archit responds:

 

Archit: I am an engineer.

 

Old man: Where do you work?

 

I work at Tata Motors.

 

So they continue talking and asking each other questions.

 

Archit looks at the birds and asks:

 

A: Have you named these birds?

 

Old man replies:

O: No, they don’t have particular names. They are called love birds, and if you see them, they are in pairs.

 

Yes, I noticed that.

 

There was another cage with a few birds beside the bigger birdhouse.

O: The birds in here are called cocktail birds, and if you notice, these birds have spikey hair.

 

A: Yes, they look cool.

 

Archit starts asking more questions, trying to learn more about the old man and the birds.

A: By the way, sir, do you do this daily? I mean cleaning the terrace, the bird house, and preparing food for the birds.

 

O: Yes, I do this every day, both in the morning and evening; it takes me an hour to clean this bird house, provide them food, and also prepare food for the next day.

 

A: Food for next day?

 

O: Yes, I need to soak the wheat grains in water for a day so that they are soft enough the next day for the birds to eat.

 

A: Ohh! Interesting. By the way, sir, why did you seal the upper part of the cage?

 

O: We have too many cats around here, and they try to catch the birds or scratch them, so I, with the help of my son, have put this up to protect them.

 

A: Sir, How long have you been a resident of Bangalore?

 

O: I am from Chennai, and I moved here 40 years ago. I worked in HAL as a security officer. I retired in 2012. Since then, Bengaluru is my home, and I built this place a few years ago. My younger son and his wife live with me, and my elder son stays away.

 

A: Nice, sir, so when you are not here, who feeds the birds?

 

O: It is because of these birds I don’t go anywhere. My son goes to work everyday, my daughter-in-law goes to office for 3 days in a week and My grandchildren go to school. My partner also left me here with these birds and she must be smiling looking at me from above serving these love birds said the Old man with a smile on his face.

 

A: with a sad face sorry, sir.

 

O: Hey, please don’t be. You know, whenever a bird tries to console another bird, it reminds me of Indu and myself trying to talk to each other after a fight.

 

A: *smiles* Oh, that's so sweet.

 

Archit realises he didn’t introduce himself and tells

 

A: Sir, *laughs* I forgot to introduce myself; my name is Archit.

 

O: Oh yeah (laughs) I'm Bhakthanandeshwar, but a guy at school couldn't spell my name, so he wrote it as Bhakthan; ever since, my name has been Bhakthan.

A: *laughs* and after a pause asks "Sir, is it okay if I visit you and the birds sometime?".

Bhakthan: Smiles and hugs Archit and Tells, please come. I will be very happy. I am also happy to have talked to someone; it feels good.

A: Thank you, sir.

Archit leaves with birds of happiness flying in his head, hitting the right spots in the brain to produce the hormone of happiness.

Thank you for reading.

~ Darshan Shanbhag

Life of Gouramma

It is about Gouramma, who spent her life for other’s happiness.

Gouramma helped clean the backyards of the houses on our campus. She was nearly 60, judging by the wrinkles on her face. Aayi would offer her tea and, she would sit on the plastic chair and share her stories with us; how she was all alone, her early marriage, her husband’s early demise , and many more stories like that. It is still easy for me to recall those red bangles she wore and her smile after every sip of tea she took while she pulled her saree over her head with her other hand. She always shared her story with a smile, as if she had faced the worst and life couldn't hurt her anymore. All the helpers here gathered around her every evening after work to share what was going on in their own lives, and Gouramma being Gouramma used to listen to them, share her stories, most of the times amusing stories to make them laugh. With a big bindi between her eyebrows, a silent smile on her face, she looked as if she was about to transform into a goddess at any moment. As I mentioned earlier, she had spent her life for other’s happiness, when she was young it was for her parents, she sacrificed her life getting married early in her life; after marrying it was for her drunkard husband, she sacrificed her happiness, worked in other’s houses to run her household and continued to do so. Thereafter, she was all alone, accepted her life the way it was, and kept a smile on her face no matter what happened.

We all have a Gouramma in our lives in the form of our mother, sister, wife, friends and colleagues who have sacrificed their happiness, their career, and a peaceful life for us. On this Women's Day, let's remember to appreciate them for all they have done for us over their lives and not stop at a single day.

Happy Women's Day to all the incredible women, ladies, and girls in my life - two days early, but every day is your day.

PS: On the 6th of last month, it was another normal day filled with birds chirping, monkeys bouncing around and leaves from the trees falling in the backyard, but this day didn't have Gouramma in it.

Rain Drop Fetish

 When the Earth's sad clouds cry crystal

as it palpates the ground

I smell the Earth smile

the drop on the leaf blade

trying to embrace the ground

moves with celerity on the leaf's surface

As it magnifies the green

the trees and plants radiate

their true self

And as the wind gushes through the green

the drops gravitate to seek my touch

with my eyes closed and arms wide open

I stand there waiting for the crystals to palpate my skin

feeling them make way down my groove 

and swirl in my button

I feel spasms of pleasure and chills running

down my spine.

~ Darshan Shanbhag

It rained in Dandeli for the last two days; this was something I penned down when I saw a girl enjoy the rain as if it was her last.