Gaurav

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Blood was oozing from it and I imagined it to be my lover’s head anointed with the auspicious red tilak[1]. I forgot that the head was lifeless. I danced up to it, knelt down and kissed it with the words: ‘Kacha dear, you did not want to kiss me, but there you are, I have you in the end.’
Yayati: A Classic Tale of Lust (Library of South Asian Literature)
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