the magic candle

The high tide,tide after tide,wave after wave...will still cut into the strong stone walls of the fort on its shore...

However long the route and changed political geography,the migrating flock of birds will still return to their nest...

The puppy will anyhow smell its way back to the master who fed it with love and care...

parallels will also come together in a prayer of folded hands...

But I am like a 'magic candle'..which is 'designed' not to give away to the temptation of the wind blowing towards it...

its fate is to make the audience laugh and clap in glee because it gives them the sadistic pleasure of witnessing the 'miracle of the candle that does not extinguish'...

poor candle...how much she wants to be blown away by the 'gentle' breeze...

so much for a pleasurable death....'haseen dard'...