This morning obeys touch and keeps me silent.
a cloud heaves and wants to water up my pores.
I hold it wet with beginings, then get carried away.

Some of the passengers come out of the first ferry
some of them want to leave, some stay back soaking
in rain, their voices grow louder with each pruning.

In absence of peacock boats, the motor launch gives 
an anxious look at the crowded wooden jetty,
kites up above the sky, now fly in usual circles.

Howrah Bridge looks elegant in the rising sun,
old men perform rituals in the Hooghly River,
mending the broken wings of the God.

A commoner’s ghat - I look for the elusive Saudagar*
in the day’s crumpled morning light,
two crows fly abruptly over the stairs, still frail.

Our time is unfixed, unmoored, unstable,
wobbling between light and darkness,
I need to continue my journey till the final whisper.