The violin begs, how it begs, the god. It’s an old raga now, one I have memorized. I find myself humming it at odd times: Running sprints up the hills, arms pumping air, not unlike a violinist teasing wood.

The other day I was trying to explain Something about something, maybe love, To a girl, when this raga came up and stole My tongue. I kept chasing it in circles Like a dog chasing its tail. It was fun.

She even laughed, I haven’t seen her laugh Much before. So I became even funnier But I bet the god didn’t think so. Why the very next day, he cut my tail and Made me whimper in pain all night.

I then joined the violin in its begging.