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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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