It is a miracle, isn’t it? In a cluttered space with books, with the marijuana of remembrances, with misplaced rage, the exiled poet keeps birthing poems. Worn-torn memories reopen their scarred flesh. They bleed raw with coagulated chunks of rape, maiming, bombing in a motherland fresh with familiar faces, and recycled anguish. The heart races back in time, all those[Read More…]

  We saw you coming, with dreamy eyes A resurrected year, born from the ashes Of sufferings of the past years, rechristened in The divinity of a newborn body, But then, 2020, you ushered in our lives With the fury and madness of demolition. With the rapacious monster of a virus, a deadly battle consuming our fragile flesh.   Held[Read More…]

[Inspired by renowned artist of Bengal Benimadhab’s artwork of Kali (woodcut litho print) which I received as a gift during the book launch of our anthology ‘Muffled Moans Unleashed’, done in collaboration with Green Tara Social Initiative, Kolkata, India.] The Kali in my being, a calcified truth of light overpowered by savage darkness. The Kali in my soul, a perpetual[Read More…]