Fortune-teller

He sits with a glum face,
waiting for one of those ;
helpless clients.
With cards displaying images manifold

Worried faces come in with great apprehension,
expecting to return home happy.
Fate unravels itself,
the fortune teller speaks.

He interpreted many a hands,read numerous horoscopes.
Some left elated, others sceptic.
(And the parrot fluttered around)

Placing his woven turban on the earthen floor.
He washed the multicoloured vermillion off his forehead.
His soul was parched,
there was no one to solve his own problems.

The walls were crumbling down,
the thatched roof did all but protect.
The two cows he owned were thinnig by the day.
Most importantly - the parrot had died the last night.

He was in his sixties,
all frail and weak.
His eyes were shrinking;
and he talked in shivers.

The Great Flood had swept away his house;
he built this one , it took him 5 gruelling years.
Only to be burned by the local goon,
the leader's marriage was on the rocks.

He wished there was someone,
someone to help him.
Knock Knock -
there came another one.
It was business as usual.

The next day he was found lying in his chamber.
The cards were smeared with his scarlet.