Three Poems by Kiriti Sengupta

On Exit


Does grief know its future?
Like the river, it refuses to
cease but reveals progression.


Why do I fail
to prefix Late
with my father’s name?


Is Winter Back in Delhi?

Cold has an old-world spur to it. I tend to rest more with an inflated appetite. Drops of olive oil on my aging skin add to the impetus. Traditional cuisines like pulao, mutton kosha, and pithe-payesh cheerfully replace bland meals for the summer. I find warmth in the shawls exuding the fragrance of a fabric conditioner I am fond of. Clean woolen reminds me of the quiet season. As the March shower topples the rising temperature, air circulates a frosty shrill.

Heat and sweat help me invest myself in work. Will this abrupt climate change make me indulge in the luxuries I cherished in the past few months? Or would the idea of being less fecund engulf me as it does in the downtime?

Antara Marwah Walks the Ramp

She steals the show.
I whisper—
She is endearing, isn’t she?
I try to spot the choreographer.

What does the model endorse?
What if she had missed a beat?
What if her stilettos broke?
What if…

Antara is all smiles as she
treads, flaunting her baby
bump. The fashion parade
looms large in a new arrival.


Kiriti Sengupta

Kiriti Sengupta, the 2018 Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize recipient, has poems published in The Common, The Florida Review Online, Amethyst Review, Dreich, and elsewhere. He has authored twelve books of poetry and prose; two books of translation; and edited eight anthologies. Sengupta is the founder-editor of the Ethos Literary Journal. More at

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