He sighed... And waited for the mustard seed to pop. Cumin lent more flavor, but mustard was traditional. The gas went tic-tic-tic and after what seemed like eternity; the seed sprang to life, zig-zagged a little, moved like a wayward diwali cracker and finally exploded.
“Ouch! that must hurt..how did your face get this way?” she demanded next morning.
Savitri pondered. This was the third time this month water had appeared from nowhere. Must surely be a good omen. She rushed and bottled the holy water seeping out of the ground.
Murugavel hammered with all his strength. There the water rushed out. “Your septic tank is ok Selviamma”. Who had time to repair the choked tank? That too thrice this month? Diwali was coming. He quietly pocketed the money and left.
She pauses to breathe
her burden she lays aside
a fly buzzed, wildly she swerves
spilling milk on the roadside ganesha.
Disappears under her piteous gaze
shock, amazement then wonder
as a nation stood bleeding cows dry.