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