Kashmiri Song

I was browsing through the books at the library today afternoon. I happen to pick up a book titled, "Best Loved Poems of the American People". Half way across the world I read this poem from the book.

KASHMIRI SONG

by: Laurence Hope (1865-1904)

ALE hands I loved beside the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on rapture's roadway far,
Before you agonise them in farewell?

Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains,
Holding the doors of Heaven and Hell,
How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins,
Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell.

Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float
On those cool waters where we used to dwell,
I would have rather felt you round my throat,
Crushing out life, than waving me farewell.

The Rat's Tail

He was a stunner. With big brown eyes, a shiny brown coat, a handsome tail to go with cute paws which looked like he had tiny white socks on. A menace nevertheless, this tiny uninvited guest would run around the house, eating our food, furniture and leave behind the byproduct of digestion all over the place. More often than not, I would see his tiny squiggly tail, run right across my field of vision. So, one fine day we set out to catch Stuart Little (assuming that's the name christened upon him).

My cousin dug out this old rusted barbaric mouse trap, the kinds which snap on contact crushing the poor little things backbone. I wonder how PETA hasn't done anything about these spinal cord transecting contraptions. So after my insistence, we finally got a more humane trap, the type that shuts the mouse into a cage.

After a few days, I saw him again nibbling at the bate inside the trap. It was time to set him free. I thought of the woods, but Sony reminded me, this was no country mouse. It would die in the woods. Imagine, city boy competing with Tarzan. After much speculation it was decided that we would set him free in it's natural habitat....another city apartment.

All this while, we presumed Little Stuart was happy in his new temporary dwelling. After all, we had provided a loving environment, adequate food and warmth. But to my utter disbelief, I found him dead, the very day he was to be set free. I tried my best to resuscitate life in to him..even CPR with the tip of my finger.

I still wonder what killed him..... an acute coronary event..bad diet..stress....the rat race....Maybe if he had a bushy tail..like a squirrel perhaps people would have bestowed more kindness. The following day we buried in a pretty pink shoe box. May is soul rest in peace.

Diagnosis

Finally figured my ailment out. It's called " Blogstipation".
Major signs and symptoms include highly infrequent posts and writers block.