Like her mismatched eyes, her hands were of different temperature. One was burning hot and another was icy cold. Padma’s hand involuntarily jerked upwards to break the contact. But the old fingers held her tight. Her grip was strong. It was crushing Padma’s hands. The free spirits swirling around them were touching Padma at their will. Their icy fingers were scrapping her bones and trampling her flesh. Sweat percolating on the body smeared with ash, was making it chalky. Her ears alive with roars of wind racing through the barren land punctuated with the indistinct clamor of the dead wishes and broken dream. Padma was looking directly into the incompatible eyes; her hands were losing all sensations, her mouth felt dry and dusty. Padma was moving through different frame of distance and time. She saw the mountains forming on the ocean beds, cities reducing to dust, and rivers swallowing up the villages. Cool breeze enveloped her, her ears filled with cries of cuckoos, cricket and night owl. Seeds grew into plants and forests grew in moments. Forests were changing their attire, from dark green to flaming red to pale yellow and then stripping themselves to bare branches; looking towards the sky for a drop of rain. Seasons changed, drops of first rain kissed the ground and winter stepped in spreading the ground with light fluffy snow. Her face blazed. Sun burnt brightly with brilliance of thousand suns. Padma heard her mother cry. She felt a burning sensation as air filled her lungs. She felt her mother’s lips on her forehead and warmth enveloped her as her mother took her in arms. Uday’s sweaty hands holding her hand in front of sacred fire, Roop was nursing her to health and Vrisa’s penetrating eyes looking through her soul. She was surrounded by men and women; some she knew some yet unknown. Unnamed one’s rasping voice was screaming in her ears. Padma could not understand a word that she spoke but Padma’s tears were rolling down her cheek. Two mismatched eyes appeared in front of Padma, startling her.  “Speak, ask the questions that matters the most. The dead are here. They are swimming in the river of future. They would answer only once.” rasped the nameless one.