Books Of Novel Poem by Sumit Ganguly

Books of novel are tetra-packs.
Fruits of society are manually picked up
Crushed, mixed in neat proportions
And sealed to make fresh fruit juice.
Goodwills achieved by the presenters
Put wings to the packages.

It's a different world in the dark interior
There are dreams of sun, rain, summer,
And the colours and tunes of spring
Which present a mirror world
Full of butterflies and pests.
Each pack waits to tell its inside story
To an expectant connoisseur
And waits eagerly for a sigh of relief.

As the wind rolls on
Cloned and genetically modified fruits appear
New entrepreneurs present newer packs
Modern people enjoy never-before taste
Every now and then new vistas open up,
The two worlds spin side by side.