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| Jaydeep Sarangi |
- Jaydeep Sarangi
Chances are she’ll lose the dream
Settle for fast growing metro links, high sky rises.
Knight Riders fan the tempo,
The fire of Bangla poems doubles the impact
With cigarette in hands, high thoughts
Marx to Ambedkar, Neruda to Tagore
Designed to impress sweet college girls
Scribble and gobble wordy rosogolla
And sweet curd, expressions everywhere.
In time, she wins the day. Drinks mouthful
Political poems, Not in My Name,
With fading memory of effeminate days, slow rain.
poetry as a sort of witness
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