Nothing remains unread here :
Overs missed, electric wire heating in the sun, acts revised.
Reading is a habit we developed too early in life,
Thanks to our grandfather, who slowly turns the first page
Holding tea in one hand – an accompaniment to watch
East Bengal burn as a child.
Roads have been blocked again,
New gulmohars bloom with the old.
A window is rolled down to catch the wind
Three farmers lost their land today
Railways have new bedsheets, berths and bathrooms
Inside, tea leaves slip with grace,
Kettles boil without a sound,
A city washes its hands in its own river.