Jute Planters
A poem on the hope and hopelessness of jute planters of Bengal, depicting dreams and nightmares of the Bengal peasantry in general.
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Poetry
Lynch the ways of the ‘others’
Madrasas are waiting for coming flames,
For they are terrorist hubs
Medical schools are not required,
For they presage our age-old ways of healing
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Murshidabadi Masons
And when I closely look at him,
His sweaty, sculptured face delights me,
A cheaply designed t-shirt, hands full of lines,
Face marked with pangs of leaving home,
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