Arindam Banerjee | Kashmir

huts in isolation

smokeless chimneys


a girl

in burqa holding

a meadow clover


near the cemetery gate


an old shepherd

benumbed by past watching

a tank stuck in a rut

he has cataracts


infantry troopers

marching past the milk bathed

cedar woods petrified

in the silence of the earth


underneath the blemishes of

an aged canopy is

another heaven

exalted by exuberance




there are secrets in the dark


death is frolicking in the snow


and only a quarter of the story is ever told/known

lord help us withstand these political jests


we say it’s ours

they say it’s theirs

isn’t it yours?


Arindam Banerjee

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