By Sanjay Kumar
Oh, it is dogs that unequivocally settle the discourse on secularism. As they release themselves raising their hind left leg, balancing themselves beautifully on the other three, one eye pretending to shed tears and the other one poetically shut, they do not discriminate among places of religious worship.
By Ananya S Guha
We watch you sinking –
soon you will be a land
submerged; a
Lost civilisation, Atlantis,
killed, wiped by slow poison.
By Goirick Brahmachari
We bond a little
Through our unbranded clothes,
Exchanging smiles
As she plays with her hair,
Expecting breeze.
By Feby Joseph
I always took a moment to look
At the calmness that lay afterwards.
At the poignant beauty of destruction
The charred remains of a life rewritten
By Parag Mallik
K icking you in the chest with feet of dejection and pessimism,
L ovingly looping around your neck with
M alice mangling every will to survive,
N ever able to cross the flames of happiness.
By Goirick Brahmachari
The stoned heat that grows into your day
The night winds of partings – half-constructed subways
Your Deccan heart breathes in
My longing
Through the hazy, yellow, cyber highways.
By Parag Mallik
I wish I could stand by you.
And by the little girl who struggles to rub the dust
Off her eyes,
In an effort to see clearly
The wakeful nightmare she is a part of.
By Syamantakshobhan Basu
I wear you like an old watch
Which has stopped exactly
At the moment we met last.
By Aaqib Hyder
A shiny white blanket
spreads across the graveyard
embraces underneath
seeds of revolution.
By Lopa Banerjee
A house, a bed that remains
smelling of flesh, burnt out songs, wrinkles of coital nights.
Yes, the splinters and cracks of love,
Pushing a tear-stained face, birth marks into the pillow.
By Yash Pandit
Had we only enough
Turns on the clock,
I would resuscitate
The farthest of summers
Just to warm your wrists
On these winter evenings.
By Zieshan Mir
I am a hundred and fifty years old
And the walls of this room are flaky
It has been burnt down with passion at times
It has rusted with passivity.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 