O my nose!

O my nose! You must have heard people saying 'O my god!' But I say 'O my nose!', when my nose is cloudy and rains a million drops or more. This is where the whole nonsensical things begin to harvest and it becomes too much when it crawls upto my eyes which then have nothing on earth to do but rain, rain and rain.

And these occasional nasal eruptions, I think, can bring down a whole building. Soon it becomes sensibly unbearable that I feel like shaving my nose. 'Shave your nose! Shave your nose!,' shouting out to me, my anger, red as tomato, but never looking to be delicious as it should be, says, says and says.

Yes. Shave it now. And put it in a show-case under a caption 'Cold Nose - A ridiculous place where cold war will never say good-bye.'

Ready with a cheap but reputedly sharp knife, I stand on my both legs, thinking with a hairy head that if I shave it right or left, I have a great risk of feeling myself an incarnation of Shurpanaka.
O my nose!