The best thing about it is the line of trees,
Gulmohor, champa, radhachura, chatim,
And the cool shade those trees cast on the road would look like curious water marks ,
And sometimes like outlines of maps of countries,
Every time I walk down the road I dream of emancipation.
A pair of glasses,
A frail figure,
A smile on paper notes.
About the contributor: Moinak Dutta, is a teacher who got two published fictions ‘ ‘Online@Offline‘ & ‘In search of la radice…‘ Many poems, stories and articles written by him got published in various magazines, journals, dailies and anthologies.
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