Saakar looked at the dull brown dusty ceiling of the Dome.. wild flower vines had grown in the dirt of limestone blocks .. shone green in earlier afternoon sun.. followed by monsoon.. unlike during Autumn or some other time round the year when the wildgrass dried and hung through dry stems .. that sticks to the stones surface.. the dome was painted red and green some where .. and yellow and blue.. multicolor.. faded patches that were so excruciatingly beautiful and remarkable that can take up to the visual torture and hallucinations of anyone's dreams.. Sikri: I can see now .. why you like to come here.. it's really a wonderful place.. to fill and follow memory in our solitude .. to mark and marvel at the precious moments of our life.. at any time later in our life to make a unforgettable experience in to a ... Saakar: you are a poet.. She Smiled.. They lay side by side for a long while.. on the cold floor of ruines of Tumbli.. their favourite place of solitude and res