| This night is an asthmatic wheezing its way on long years of treads and pauses long streets of loneliness usurped by vacant eyes of another dawn Gwalior remains the same gripped by a hegemony of moments growing in wild abandon left unwillingly in an insanity and rust of a lonesome cannon only the shadows of the fort holds another promise only your eyes behind a palace jali broke the defense of a monsoon song. – Dr. Amitabh Mitra |
