It’s a voluntary widowhood. Whipped by Neeli’s tongue, he’s gone to harvest Dirhams* in Dubai desert – lest the embryo of their new home won’t grow up. She’s alone in a temporary shed behind the basement on the bank. Indian Postman passes by like her days flashing ‘No’ with his fingers. She looks into the distant desert through the window of nostalgia. Fear creeps on the walls of her heart at night - even a Norway rat becomes a ghost rattling in kitchen. Years slip into the chasm of past leaving behind the doldrums on her countenance. Time partitions her basement – mongooses, bandicoots and rats get their shares – holes and chinks. Now her dreams with streaks of love have shrunk like her womb. *Dirham – currency of the United Arab Emirates [First published by Encircle Publications, US.]