Of old radio transistor, and winter,
Of life spent in a small town,
Once when the people had perhaps
More time at disposal,
To sit and sip life,
To start the days without hurry,
To listen to radio-transistors,
Waking up blessed by poems and songs,
Full of jingles, 'Dulal chandra Bhar'
And ad lines of cold creams,
Like perfumed antiseptic 'Boroline',
Orange peels, and songs of time,
Just one remind
Old winter and radio transistor
And life woven by unhurried time.