All these things sound philosophical to me. God is a petty tout, life a semblance to a sand castle. I make an oratory, sharp like an arrow, of hunger, dream and unemployment. Although I am an intellectual my friends dub me mad. Father's job and preachings are morning and evening.
Younger brothers are storms, cut off.
Come, children, sit on my shoulder, I will take you to the land of moon. When you are thirsty I will give you the water of my eyes. When it's night you will sleep with my lullabies. I had seen the map of Orissa in my school geography book. The family tears are like the breaking of the secret rains.