Burdwan house blooms open it’s petals,
the oval half fielding cargo unloaded by longshoremen,
but they are extinct.
So, we are informed that we cannot hate ‘the other:’
Verse that is not sufficiently cosmopolitan will be blacked-out by the censor;
like needles in Suhrawardy,
like the cadre piercing slogans through the megaphone that unionizes with the vanguard, who remain in attention
even against the feigning storms
that leak in through the tarpaulin.
Photo: Roger Gwynn