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Author

Mita Nangia Goswami

Browsing

A silent house sat there, full of people who did not hear each other, so the house was silent It also felt empty, as empty as an empty glass which longed to quench the thirst of the thirsty Thirsty for someone to hear them, to listen These people, each one of them was like a boat in the wide-open sea Tossing around and thirsty Till one day they alighted on the shores of an unknown land A desert it was, once you crossed over the mountain near the sea There, under the blazing sun and in the golden sands A single flower was blooming in the desert Something happened, a dazzling light, it felt like the flower Was a candle burning brightly Or was the flower like a woman dancing to her own music, unheard by others Ah ha! So, silence is because we all have our own music? Which…