Miyah

dappled bloody sheet

and nineteen lakh bodies

floating to the asphalt shores

of Brahmaputra- naked and filled.

Birds flying away, leaves falling cold

sun setting low, moon bent till toe

homes painted grey, heart- dead fay

indians-moments ago, now far away.

how shall one be in solitude in war?

how shall one be happy in sorrow?

if hunger seeks hand, why not lend?

to live in a land of love, can’t we amend?

why to cultivate hate, when we all are same

with exhaustible body, and transient name?

Sutputra Radheye is someone among you who writes poetry, and prose to express himself. “Worshipping Bodies” is his latest poetry book. He believes in art with a purpose, an art that revolts against the commodity fetishism of the present society.

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