It was a windy day in November,
There was a power cut,
I went upto the chhat,
And lay there under my,
Ma's colorful sarees,
Billowing in the window,
With each attempt,
Trying to escape the hold,
Of the clothes' pegs.
With every gush of wind,
The yellow saaree,
Screamed to be let out,
And when
ज्यादा पढ़ें...