Chittaranjan Dash, Delhi, 12 January 2025
Everybody returns to their barracks.
We become restless, morose –
And turn mad seeking meanings.
In the cranium of darkly night,
We wake up with a huge white void –
Our breaths – what are they for?
Unwanted dreams consume us.
Our skeletons dance under moonlight.
A puppeteer smiles somewhere.
