She was very sexually attractive, a widow in her early forties who is my colleague. Her husband died early in life due to excessive bouts of drinking. She used to wear a sari and her face had a vermilion smeared on it, used to connote the third eye of Shiva. Being ethical, having respect for my friend and also due to lack of courage, I have never mustered the courage to ask her to share me with the poetry of sensuality. I loved the way her body was colored and it was the color of wheat. As days went on it came to pass that she had ovarian cancer. She came into my arms and wept. All my feelings became a conglomerate just like pot. My original feelings of lust drained out and I felt compassion, pity; but I just did not know how to comfort her.