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From Editor's Diary

From the Editor's Diary......
My head was bent down, my fingers were holding a pencil and the pencil, trying to scribble out my story. But the fatal cold was numbing my fingers.
I was thinking 'bout my love. The warm summer we spent together.
Ten minutes before, whn I'd looked at the clouds, they were damp gray, but now they weere white. I was still wondering the synonym of 'exploit' when I realised that my desk was illuminated in several rectangular blocks.
When I looked out, the sun was up. The black iron fender was cutting its light into numerous halves.
The sun was incomplete. My story was incomplete.







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Location: Faizabad, Uttar Pradesh, India

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