Reading Time: < 1 minute
For a yearlong at six in the morning I took the paper from the thin man And kept it neatly stacked on shoe box. When the stack looked like a hill I called the scrap collector, and sold it. ‘Why do you buy if you don’t have time to read?’ My wife pointed. I kept silent, and thought of a break from tomorrow. Next morning at six in the morning he came And I took it as usual and gently put it on the pile. ‘Sheer wastage!’ One day she rued, ‘I hate the headlines, but I love the thin man in slippers’, I admitted.
Picture design Anumita Roy, Different Truths
