On an evening like this
in the midst of running streets
and running rain
I think of leaving you,
taking with me a cache of words in a
tin-trunk stored all these years…
thoughts hold me, perching on seasons of spell in
hues of a grey canvas sky.
I look back capturing the fort in
my fist, before the train changed
tracks and
braids of your long hair
rushing on your
unprecedented laughter. 

– Dr. Amitabh Mitra 
April 3, 2005