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Make things up, forge realities, craft stories, compose songs, cook up storms. Make things up, create recipes, to be prepared only on full moon nights. Plan an epic quest for its ingredients, on to mystical lands. Think of three questions, you'd answer the yakshini, to the get the final one. Then tell us, what the dish tastes like. Make things up, invent new words, like, what's the word for, when your ears get warm as attention turns towards you, or when you force-hold your eyes open 'cause if you blink, it's floodgates, or when you keep stretching a conversation, so that silence doesn't bring a 'goodbye'. Then, write a poem, with those made up words. Make things up, design castles, with guards, and wolves, and parrots and ghosts, with trapdoors, and vaults, and cellars, and moats and spiral stairs leading to a dungeon, and a door, that you are scared to touch. Then tell us, "Why are you afraid? What's beyond the door?" Make things up, dream up creatures, but don't stitch a lion to an eagle, don't be lazy that way. Shape the being from first thought, give it texture without a metaphor, give it character with no familiarity. "Can you tell us what it looks like, without leaning on a crutch of resemblance?" Then describe, what your fingers feel, when you run your hand over it. Make things up, dream up new realities, another dimension in a multiverse, conjure a new planet, with five suns, and twenty-three moons, and its inhabitants, over millions of years of evolution have not yet surfaced from the oceans. Then write an essay, on the science of its territorial expansion. Make things up, even where you shouldn't tell your wife you are having an affair, with a shape shifting dragon, tell your boss a joke during a meeting, and for extra measure, make it naughty, tell your kids, you are an alien, living a double life on this planet. The universe was bored, so it created you, to invent fantasy, to spice things up, so, do it a favour, disturb the silence, make things up.

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