in

Wanderer

I wander through the bylanes of the old city

Vague misty memories spring up like tea stalls

in narrow streets

The smell of pre-loved books piled up

A wonderland to lose your way in the prints of yellowed pages

The sound of youth, unburdened chatter

Enough nostalgia to drown in for a weary soul

Till the taste of cigarette-smoke-wrapped tea

Jolts my sleep-deprived mind awake.

….

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Dynamo

Written by Amrita Chowdhury

Women

What's Real