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?