Hemango waits silently for the pomelo tree, blooming into fairy tales. Existence is a fairy tale untold and un-smelt. Hemango is looking at his image in the mirror. A mirror often becomes a slaughterer. In the very moment he discovers in him the man whom he sees every day while going to office, his head being buried at the Samudragarh Railway Station and people throwing coins at him. Hemango can feel himself shivering now. A small lotora – bird is found sitting on a branch of the pomelo-tree visible through the window. Hemango writes down his dream of the last night on a white sheet of paper. And a story starts getting a formless form. It is a story of the pomelo tree which is standing on his naval-root.