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Cooking Poetry

Gitanjali Roy

While returning

On my way towards home…

The half-open door

calls for an uncanny call…

At dreams, the entrance windchim clinging!

Being an Other,

The strange land threatens,


The home is calling…

April, the cruelest month of all!

Numbers multiplied.

The rest, wed-locked with land lock.


The strange land threatens,


The home calling…

The normal

Evolving as

The new normal.

Social, but only from a distance.

Integrating and disintegrating

the values of togetherness

the digitalized age,

webbing in webs,

emphasizing on celebrating aloofness.

The theater screen trapped inside Netflix,

The cafe chats?

Now a tutorial channel called YouTube.

The intellectual conferences?

More liquefied, called webinar.

An order amidst the chaos

The new normal!

The same route

Stares strangely towards me.

The lack of hope

The tiredness of being alone

The monotony of unspoken trees

Each communicates

yet a story, unregistered.

Some chosen lucky,

The wild roadside touch-me-not blooms,

The bees dancing on the honey-filled flowers,

The nasty group of boys being trapped indoors!

The evening walks with dogs

No more seen!

While the jonakis greet hiding, still far from the treat.

While we gasped for fresh air,

filtered air everywhere

But now, masked in!

Books have become best friend again

Sleeping early, waking early, a routine!

Meditation a need

While being at home

A narrative indeed!

The soon gonna-divorced couple

Making love once more.

The spoiled son helping mom in household chores.

While in the next door

The father rapes his own daughter at home!

The native was mocked

When he mis-spelled school as isskool.

But now students forced to attend e-school!

In the bazaars of life

The prickling pickle preserves hope,

The sugary silence sweetens,

The salty suffering accumulates,

The utensils await to be cooked!

The lazy chef

Ties a careless bun.

Dices the vegetables of words,

Pans in oil of punctuation,

Stirring the spices,

Tossing the feelings,

Sprinkling the creamy emotions,

Frying imagination,

Runs to address the ringing, calling bell!

Only to return with the

burnt over-heated spoiled broth.

Draining the poem, off washbasin…


Poet Gitanjali Roy

works as Asstt. Professor,

English Dept., ICFAI University,

Tripura and is pursuing her PhD

on Digital Literature.

[Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in our Blog are those of the author(s) / poet(s) and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Publisher.]


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