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Sitesh Aloke


An era has passed,
a generation
has come to an end…

And those very people
who spat on the ruins,
have, this instant, become
the pontiffs of the new age.


The news states:
twenty years have elapsed
since our victory
over smallpox.

And we know
this too,
that in the meantime,
terrorism and fanaticism
have each year
delivered thousands
from the bondage of living.

We are making progress:
humanity no longer dies
at the hands of insects and vermin.
It has achieved the distinction
of death at the hands of human beings.


Fluttering in the wind,
like a flag,
the left hand
with contempt:

"Even now, you
eat with the right hand,
write with the right hand,
and use the same to shake hands…

How far the times
have changed!
Yet you stand still –
what world do you live in?"

Tell Me

He said:
"Don't give titles
to poems."

I said.
"Then tell me
what I may call you?"


with soft and silky-smooth form,
you sway gracefully as you move,
pleasing the mind,
soothing the eye.

when you raise your hood
to strike –
strikingly, you become a question mark.


In this metropolis
are immense buildings
whose high iron gates declare:

Just a little ahead of them
may be spotted a small dwelling
on whose door
is written: 'Welcome'.
That's it…
you can't miss my home.