An ultramarine dome, and multi-hued

Filtration filaments on auto pilot

Ensure smooth flow, being

Hu-Machines extraordinaire!

One can feel dazed…at the gains…

The only thing that seems out of control is

The Time-Machine,

Usually pointing right, but now


It has suddenly turned left!


There’s no time to reset, past midnight,

In the deep forest, flying on Duofleet;

Getting down on the ground where a stream starts at the waterfall.


It’s a moon-lit blue haven, it’s a scary scall

The jungle breathes menace within its fragrant core of majestic trees, it enthrals to lull. Who doesn’t know this?


Shielding, wavering, covered in green,

I walk past cedars, stepping into a grove of sweet smelling fruit, silhouettes abound here, very eerie, my breath quickens, gleaming eyes on branches…lemurs?


There’s a gurgling sound, I pitch forward, see

A tiny puddle at my feet trying out its roar,

Mimicking the waterfall!

I smile at its silvery light, looking down,



That’s when I see her. Reflected in the water.

I’d know her anywhere, of course, I’ve known her for five thousand years or more, though she may not be aware. Or is she?


The most extraordinary women in one swell curve! She’s a potpourri, a medley, a combine. Not just one, but the spirits of six women of mythology fused in one.


I stare, or really I ogle, my unflinching gaze fixed on this vision that is also in me! (Must be, since it’s my reflection). I whisper the name, softly…..


She stirs, rippling bubbles on water…

Her form is a glowing palace, in the shape of a woman, and she shelters many kindred spirits, travelling through time. They gather at old haunts like this glacial abode in the Himalayas.


It’s an old infinite sisterhood, their enjambed ideas birthing futures, holding with compassion both present and past…rewriting tales…


I look at her eyes – so full of kindness, you could drown in them, an ocean of belonging and love and nurturing. They hold the rough & tumble ravages of existence too, for they’ve been through it all. Oh, their fathomless depths!


In a daze I stand there. Time – a sprinkling of filaments, floats all around…


“This is Coral Ambar,” Roy is saying. “She used to be with the World Poetry Department and was most recently a Facilitator for Minoty Town in Garhwal.”


“Pleased to meet you,” Bimal Vrat smiles, extending his hand.


“You worked in Tirthan ,” Meena said, her eyes widening in awe.


A picture of hidden waterfalls, magical lakes, and old world charms loom up before my eyes, as I recall the months spent there.


A whirring sound interrupts the conversation.


I look up. The sky is pink in the east, and I am alone. The Time machine is pointing right. I am on a Jet plane in a window seat, flying home.


It is spring 2081 and only a few hours until the new maps arrive. I try not to hold my breath.