A book is that groaning dilapidated machine
With sad letters forming words in dark black
Surrounding themselves and making themselves
Unique from the white, plain material.
The black words give the machine its dusted look.
Now, what if the machine was in vibrant colors
And instead of one monotonous world,
Was a universe of worlds, which are sometimes
Connected in their own way?
That gives you the answer of a six letter word – ‘Tinkle’.
Live in the present world on your couch
In a quarantined state with a pensive mood
And yet travel the world like a frequent traveller
To the dense jungles with the companionship of Shambu.
Oh! Look! The trail led us to Hooja’s place.
Then, travel back to the city and help Suppandi
In his interviews. Oh no! Look!
Another villain for Wingstar to fight
Is what we see in front of our own eyes.
What will happen this time?
And then, finally, in the end,
Can you still tell that you did not move at all
And did not explore the whole wide world?