It is night time , she reads something on the smartphone. She is sitting on her study table , she keeps thinking about it as she is very much moved away by it , in not so positive way. She goes to her bed , trying to write something which can show her inner feelings. It goes like , "birds flew away.../let us too say goodbye..." , however she forgets her poem after a while.
She is looks out of the balcony, the scene appears to be dusty and still like an old style painting frame . No one but only a boy can be seen at the crossroads, from where four roads go in four directions, he is wearing a t-shirt and jeans , standing there, frightened... shivering! Is not able to move .His face is not clear as she stands on the second floor. She is watching carefully with a straight face .

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A bunch of well bodied , horrificly furious men , speeds angrily towards the thin boy , he is now terribly horrified . He is freezed ! They reach him within a second . They start abusing him bitterly and loudly , the whole scene comes to life as birds depart the trees because the louder voices of the men. The scene is again as still as before and dusty. They are beating the boy ruthlessly with a thick stick . The boy eventually meets his fate by the attack of an axe . He is dead in just one stroke ; with a cut on his chest .
He now disappears from the sight. She is watching all this with a straight face carrying a subtle sympathy towards the poor fellow!
Within a fraction of a second, there appears one old woman , so thin that she appears like a stick drawing. And besides her appears an old man , few steps back , so old that his hairs are all white.
She watches them , sees their faces carefully but is not able to retain for a long that clearly.
The big men are still standing there... furious...as if they are holding a court. The two preys stand folding their hands to the men as if seeking mercy. Their hands still holds the axes .
Out of fear, she vacates the balcony, forgets about it , it happens quiet often here , not so a matter to be exaggerated. She is busy writing again -
