Poetry
A Birdsong
someone stole her voice
on a moving bus.
suddenly the city
stops churning, and stares.
Disengaged
pungent with the smell of alcohol that
you, we, couldn’t afford to have,
and I wish that your love
was different.
Normal.
Cox Bazaar
That night at Cox Bazar he ate them,
devouring mouthfuls.
His hunger wouldn’t end.
Bovine Intervention
My parents too pick me up without fail every time I land
at the Bhubaneswar airport. 17 times in the last 6 years. I count
because cumulation offers resilience that nostalgia
doesn’t.
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