Ride

Her
dupatta
billowing
flapping
fluttering
like a live thing
she
was on
the high
of
ecstacy
(the
emotion
not
the drug-
the
symptoms
may
match
though)
wind
sang
to her
in the
ear
tickled
the insides
of her
nostrils
and
made
her
unruly
hair
look
scruffier.
She
laughed
out of
pure
joy
and
sang
snatches
of
a
forgotten
ditty
the
other
passersby
amused
to
bits
a
truck
driver
swore
loudly
and
a
loud
honk
followed
a prophesy
by
the
rickshaw
wallah
lady-
today
is
the
day
that
you
die.
Why
sing
then?