John was going on a jungle trip. He asked his wife to pack something to eat, something to drink and something to burn if he feels cold in the jungle. When John opens the backpack he found just one thing in the bag. What was it?
I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth, I am dissolved into air. What am I?
