The woman asks a poet what his poem is all about. There is mist in her eyes and the hills beyond. Misty eyed she asks the last question .
It is all about mist and dust.We have our misty poems.Our misty eyed women ask the last questions .We say, our last answers go back to mist and dust. There is mist all over, in the women’s eyes,in the cities we live and on the green benches.
But the last answers come from dust and mist ,in poems and flowers. Our parijat flowers drop all night long, in their mist. They drop to dust ,their bloody feet up and faces down.