Monobina Nath writes a short story for Outlook.
Melting grassroots/in an extrovert honey/her passionate lips...like the cappadocia balloons- primrose, pastel pink.
The poet sighs that pangs of jubilant, curious eyes are my friends, will wake me forever in the starry night.
The pursuit of happiness has been like the pursuit of truth, with all its relativeness. There has never been a simple, straight answer.
Before up & away, the humungous burden of planning in the face of oppressive anxiety...
Cricket's stars are a ruthless lot, many have crashed and burned at its hallowed pitch
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