We now have a tarpaulin over our libidos
Besides running buses of lusts to perform.
Under the tarpaulin when it is not raining
We are cocoons of a married togetherness
That are spinning shiny silks of nine yards
In long musical yarns of Hindi film dance.
It will be raining here with wind and storm.
We have to return tarpaulin to tent maker.
And we will be naked under sun and moon.
(A 23 year old girl who had been gang-raped in a running bus in Delhi lost her battle for life in a Singapore hospital)