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The Shooting Star

'Come on, Kaku, we'll be late!' said my six-year-old niece, Rupsa, to me, her paternal Uncle. 'Don't worry, Rupsa ma, we won't be late,' said I, addressing her in the traditional Bengali way of calling a young girl ma, mother. In reply, she pouted her lips. I was about to add 'we can't be late' … Continue reading The Shooting Star


O Time! Moderate your pace,For with you, I am in no race. You skip over any and all the boundsLike a group of excited hounds,Who, when they sense fear excess,Dart all the faster with no recess; Your perennial, invisible stream flows,Which itself, about time, not knows;Its work is to keep flowing stillAnd never, for even … Continue reading Time