The writer was dreaming and dreaming and kept on dreaming. He couldn’t sleep. His head had become a fermented dough, and he wrote the Hindi poem with his limited stock of words.

You may enjoy just by reading it if you could or may gift a set of wings to your imagination that you might see in your dream of the darkest corner of your mind.

About Manas Halder

I am a Geophysicist by profession and an enthusiastic writer as well.

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