In the beautiful forests, the shadows were long and diaphanous, reaching up to the very gray skies .Outside our huts ,the trees were crooked and leafless, bearing burden of cumulative sins against our children’s shrieks at the phantom’s coming.
In the city, the nights are dreamed once again, in broad daylight, among several theses. All the while, in the backwoods, a yellowed day was witness to cultural history being re-enacted.
Meanwhile, there was fever rising in blood. Strangers at midnight attacked us for secrets. A little girl laughed at the dreams in our head, outside the room, from the fever of her own blood.
( Sunderbans, literally beautiful forests, are estuarine forests of Bengal, the home of the royal Bengal tiger)