All roads not to Rome

Maharaja Chandnu in the Mahabharat,

To win his belated love battle

Over his beloved, a fisherman’s blonde,

Had with him four armours:

Bhismar as his son, himself a widower, 

The woman still a spinster

And she not from a formidable clan.

None of these are my arms,

With which I wage for her a battle

That might turn futile.

Does a bud unfurl

on the certainty of its fertility?

13.05.99, Palak