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Do Not Throw The Stones
Folder:
Satish Verma Living in a wax palace
and deliberately―
firing it.
The beseeching fault
of life. It demands pure
blood.
Self-consciously I
pick up the glossy cowries,
with beautiful patterns
and play my childhood.
How come, the style
remains the same as that
of a butcher or a saint?
The humiliating defeat
in the hands of a dirty character―
becoming a class.
The cradle rocks. A new―
born theme is thrown out.
