By Arik Mitra I stared, beneath dim lights of imbibed fear, it was impending; my heart, she was soon to pass away. Age old walls — plaster come off in patches, the low watt bulbs counted in silence, the cricket and the cicada chirps; Passed the night below my pillowed death. Was taking birth the pre-dawn light, ever unresting howls and calls, from branches, from … Continue reading Through That Realm Of Ours