A short story.
A day in an afternoon. They never had gone there. They sat idle. They knew not when it was. They lazed as if ever. They had to go. They left horses around. Shrijoni wake up. She moved on. She stopped. There was rain. She moved on again. She found them resting. She was lost. There was no war there. She sipped water. Her dream was broken.
What could have been next if Shrijoni had dreamt further?
Shrijoni never knew she ignored she was gasping. She was excited all of a sudden out of her sleep and uprooted from her torn pieces of dreams as if floating clouds in the sky.
Her mobile beeped. Again. And again. Shrijoni was in different clouds when she chats with people she had once known and even unknown – all day, all night. She doesn’t know often when and when not. Shrijoni is least aware if there are clouds in the real sky.
– Moumita Adhikary