Poetry: West Midnapore

February 16, 2010
Amitabh Mitra


forty thousand kilometres parched land defying boundaries of hunger and rights of existence rights of a sun to drench its own nobody talked to the broken sky the broken heart the broken earthen pots once harbouring tears instead rifle butts broke but not the bones nor the lame mind and one day at west midnapore somebody cut open the sun people looked in awe at the lame mind corporate confines shook on a stolen territory a country talked and talked.

Poem and Drawing by Amitabh Mitra

An orthopaedic surgeon in a busy hospital in East London, South Africa, I actually belong to Gwalior, Madhya Pradesh, its long summers and hectic politics. I edit a print poetry journal called 'A Hudson View', a journal on African arts called 'Inyathi' and dream of going back to Gwalior. My blog on South African Arts is http://www.amitabhmitra.blogspot.com/
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