A leaf from a lunatic's diary

You told me many a times that I can catch cold when I will be unclad. I never questioned you because you were my mother. But last night again I found out a numerous disrobed soldiers in the coldness of my blanket. Aren't they feeling the same as I am feeling or are they orphans? In recent past I have seen their numbers increasing astronomically. They shout at me, they lambaste me. They threaten me not to sing,  not to draw or even to think. Aren't they too audacious? I think I could have defeated them if I were more cold. But what will happen to my dreams? Won't they freeze?

I dreamt to play Beethoven on my violin for my beloved standing beside the broken roads of Austria where ten thousand Nazi's had marched. I think I can save myself from the blood drenched bayonet of those creatures.

I dreamt to present a blood red bougainvillea to my love on a sunny bright morning amidst the smoking sands of