first storm...
searching for the shirt
he is wearing
—Mohua Maulik
hostel gate—
a gust of wind scatters
the empty nest
—Mohua Maulik
north wind
the banyan tree grows
its own prosthesis
—Mohua Maulik
at the forsaken house
i step on a lizard
the tail
still squirming amidst the ruins
of our chapter
—Mohua Maulik