When I open the window of the southern side br I feel I did not take any foot step from my childhood br The exterior wind blows gentle with motherly touch br br Wherever I look there the woods arise br In the dimness of memories departed long br br Time is nothing but a battle and defeats me repeatedly br My frustration makes me return to my window br And that very time I solemnly try to make a voyage br In the ripples of rip-roaring tide and timesbr br Tapas Baidyabr br