I didn’t lift my face, seriously watching the plate. She kept rice on my plate… I saw her lovely hand with bangles…vow…what a beautiful hands�...�..“m….. Eat…” she ordered.I didn’t have courage to see her face. But the wave of her hip saree made me to see her lean waist. She was still in the saree…exposing maximum of her waist.Her expanded low hip made me to think something and all. As per my imagination, she was hiding her navel just an inch inside her hip saree.If I am correct, the border of her. Over the wind, broken in pieces, rises the sound of roaring tanks. I dive from Sophie’s humps and take cover by a dune. Sophie lopes off in fear and is shot down. I watch as one foreleg waves and paws at the air. The camel is the passion, the pain of the desert. ‘My heart belongs to the camel In his humps is a somber vitality Poured in by centuries of slavery He hauls his burden, but longs for the cloudy blue He howls with the fury of love His patience nurses the desert’ –Sabir Sophie calls. More

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