Deep down where the heart rhythm
Words taking their birth.
The melancholic tune finding a note
To be on the sheet music.
My old beloved Kolkata shrouding in
The young autumn mist.
Parapet of cornices bordered by the–
Misty crescent moonlight.
Brokenness of the promises splintered
Waiting to get scattered.
Black of night dances naked at the–
Tip of my cigarette.
Calmness of night whisper through–
My smoked breath.
Coffer open of the story incomplete
Untolds reasoned with soul
Moon seems, tonight, eye of the fish
From Draupadi’s swayamvar
Am not the Arjun, am the Karna trying
To prove nothing again all.