Arka Mukhopadhyay is a writer, scribbler, researcher, music composer, photographer, and procrastinator from Howrah, India. He has given up a career in media journalism to pursue a funded PhD in doomsday literature. When he is not knee-deep in a book he scarcely understands, he makes punk music with his friends in a collective called Bisher Doshok. His favorite pastime includes sleeping, cooking, watching documentaries, and chasing stray cats.

by Arka Mukhopadhyay

As the last light of day
Clings on to
The horizon,
Our Deccan train
Devoid of passengers
Moves through
A macabre land,
Almost snake-like –

Arid expanse, sudden
Specks of
Electric chink
Blinking with
Starvation buzz, delirious –
A heron’s cry
Caressing our lingering
Yearning, until dark

So long, this dissected
Countryside
Lulled to sleep
By a gust of smoke
In a coal mine, clandestine;
So long, burning eyes –
Here, no God in sight
Besides
An electric monolith
God-men and mafias
Selling stale faith
Five bucks
Worth of paradise

Five Bucks