This is blue space for everyone’s writing, spurred  on by four pointed pencils.Not one of them is blue. But the space is blue and empty like the sky where a fleeting jet can leave a white trail.

Houses in Rajasthan are blue and empty. Our Sunday moods are blue against the looming Monday, with body parts hanging out of shared rickshaws, as if they are schoolbags.

The sea is blue against the sky of many hues.From the hill-top, as you climb down you see the sky as continuation of the sea and you do not know where there is a seam or a joint, in the blue marking out the sky from the sea.

Yesterday we wanted to see a moon in the blue sky peacefully co-existing with the sun. But the moon went pale out of fright and was hardly recognisable against the sun’s golden silk cloth.


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