The muffled street drums the win of some leader prewritten to win by the invisible potentate; here nothing matters more than an electronic fan riddling the heatwave into a shattered-mirror puzzle; I hear the fan; years ago the doctors drilled a hole into the throat of my caught-in-cancer aunt, and she used to talk about dying old and the subtexts of all other curses in her voice of a third world electronic fan slashing out the summer again and again. Mid-day, I hark the noise-puzzle. Who won? You ask. I shake my head, "The fan repeats its battle in the same circle, because..." Because of our births, because our orbits chanced our genesis.
An author and a father, Kushal Poddar, edited a magazine – ‘Words Surfacing’, authored seven volumes including ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’. His works have been translated in ten languages.
Find and follow him at amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet