As a kid I wanted to be a teacher. Holding chalk in my right hand and a long scale in the left, I used to write on my brown colored almirah. With my maa screaming from the kitchen to diligently…
“It’s a lovely day. Flowers are blooming on her balcony. Cold breeze is flowing over her tresses gently and her hair is responding by billowing with it. Her scarf is also ready to leave the boundation of being around the…