A featherlight churn, tossed in a turn
Bimal Kar (19 September 1921 — 26 August 2003)
That scorching day, a lonely mid summer day, when the sky was melting within a brazen hue over these heated green forests, those mossy and ferny serene,though devoid of flora, with no chirping birdsong around, she came at that very hour! She was the allegory of a crane, alongwith the same milky white purity, gentleness, warmth and a painstaking beauty. None was too keen to look into, that thoroughly, none was eloquent in an exposition, if she was from the Bengal or Bombay, Punjab, Persia or anywhere else, happening in another way.Only it was buzzing around. In a place like this, desolated and an aftermath of a forest undergoing deforestation,annihilating green slender pine trees to reinforce yet another block for a rescue office, and it was only possible to establish yet another quarter, and with that pretext the happening with cement and brickchips and plasters and they will be covered with their finer particles, flying all around in the construction area, that was a normal expectation.
Even though, none of these had to happen in real life, only a lighthearted gentle breeze will send along a blessed wave along her way, the unique aroma and fragrance of the spring may sung an unsung song along that pathway , and who even could foretell this trendy thought, about all these, in an advanced season, to be caught!
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