The wind flew and the birds sighed,
 the old woman knew, and demurely cried.
 The sounds rose in tempo, an overpowering din,
 Amidst the storm rose a grim and purple Jhinn,

 His hands folded across his wide chest,
 His forehead gaunt, muscles rippling his vest,
 A trace of a scowl stamped across his chin,
 Amidst the storm, one could see the grim, purple Jhinn.

 He raised his hand, and the city trembled in awe,
 They gulped many times, scarcely drinking in what they saw,
 From the skies above, dropped a purple coloured bin,
 Amidst the storm, one could see the grim, purple Jhinn.

 People, though afraid, came and inspected the bin,
 Curiosity overcame them, they had to see what was in,
 Would it be a pandora's box, a punishment for their sin,
 Or would it contain ambrosia and happiness for all kin.
  
 The Jhinn's face was as grim as can be,
 Think well before you open the purple bin, said he.
 Whatever you find is very well yours,
 It may be good and nice, but it might very well be gross.
 Thou shallst be saddled with whatever is in the bin,
 Warned the voice from the storm, from the grim, purple Jhinn.

 The people counselled for a week and a half,
 kids,men and women and even old ladies in a scarf,
 All would be well, they declared with a nervous laugh,
 We shall open the purple bin, and see whats inside,
 Whatever fate rides us on, we shall very well ride.

 The purple coloured Jhinn, smiled for the first time,
 And quietly vanished away in a trail of vapour and slime,

 Silence cloaked the town, as they inspected the 
                              contents of the bin,
 Their curiosity to be finally satisfied, with the 
                        mysterious contents within,
 Silence reigned still as the people saw the contents in awe.
 Twas a beautiful diamond stick, the most beautiful they ever saw,
 
 The village leader stepped up and touched the glittering wand,
 jitterly did he touch, as one would a delicate frond.
 Crystal it was, but few could more descry,
 The old woman knew and demurely cried.
 
 The village waited abate for a minute or two,
 What would happen to the leader, pretty noone had a clue,
 nothing happened and the people grew bold,
 the leader held the stick high, and in a deep baritone told,
 "This is the wand that beholds the destiny of the town,
 We shall worship it henceforth, in it our sorrows shall drown"
  
 The people shouted in praise of their leader and the Jhinn,
 They couldnt take their eyes off the wand from the bin,
 The mob was euphoric, for a few something nagged within,
 But noone at all noticed the old woman with the double chin.
 
 The old woman rubbed her eyes, and stood up with resolve,
 I shall solve the problem, no matter what effort it involves,
 The steely lady came out and made straight for the leader with 
                                                     the wand,
 "Drop the evil thing, before it does the job for which it was born"
 Cried the old lady hoarse till her old throat was dry,
 But then noone noticed, only the wand could they descry.
 
 "Anyone who desires to touch the holy stick"
 "step up in a line, and hope for your wishes to click"
 Announced the leader to a rushing stampede,
 The old woman fell down, stepped upon like a weed,
 
 She struggled to get up even as feet pounded her down,
 she cried out for them to stop, even as heels cracked her crown,
 
 In her dying moments, she recalled the twin verses,
 That talked of evil wands and evil powerful curses,
 
 "Beware of the Jhinn that shall bring evil in the guise of a purse"
 "Remain far from it O woman, coz it has an evil curse!"
 
 With the last gasp of breath that she could muster from deep within,
 She cried out for the people to throw away the wand from the Jhinn,
 
 As the world that she knew dissolved around her eyes,
 She strained her ears and heard a very faint voice,

 "Curses need not curses for all and every one,
 The sun a boon to man, the very sun cockroaches shun.
 
 People attribute a global context to their personal belief,
 And emote on that strongly, a comical notion indeed." 

 She looked around her and at the happy faces smiled,
 The thought riled no more that all these years riled,
 
 Realised the old dame that the curse pertained to her alone,
 The curse that she had remembered, the curse told her by an old crone,
 
 The old lady smiled weakly, the victim of a stampede,
 so unromantic a death, so like a stepped upon weed,
 
 The old woman closed her eyes as her end nearer drew,
 She didnt cry at all, for now she completely knew.