My dear Lenin,
has Asansol been on your mind?
Kolkata tests your will,
doesn’t it?
So, every weekend,
you take the train
and visit your missed land.
Are all our native lands
infidel, Lenin?

It’s been a while
you’ve been in love,

and I’ve been happy,
if you’re bent on learning
about me.

Why my bed-sheets are often red,
I could never explain,
but you probably understand the catch.

I like to be your Trotsky all right.

Lenin,
will we ever see the sky of Bangladesh?
will we ever know how many really died
in the War?
Genocide is something
I can’t deal with.

Has our precious Kolkata never witnessed one?

I’ve been talking to you last night
and wondering
how many pills
a day
cure a Bipolar patient.
So ludicrous
how the doctors take everything for granted.

It’s early in the morning
and I’ve been thinking of
writing for you
what I promised long back.
There are confessions I’ll always run away from,
and conditions I’ll always embrace.

It’s true I loved you once.

So, Lenin,
on another note,
as you rightly said,

on our battle of the 21st,
I have chosen to distribute myself.

Ideas are always taken,
or borrowed

or sometimes brutally stolen.

I see my bed-sheets turn red, Lenin,
and the walls
gradually breaking down.

Will there really be a third world war,
or did we fight
for no reason whatsover
once again?

I will turn in now,
and leave you be,
for Lenin,
I have always lived in a missed land,

where my infidelity
never seemed to let go of me.

Sahana Mukherjee

Sahana Mukherjee

Sahana Mukherjee is an undergraduate student at Jadavpur University. Her works have previously been published in Muse India, Café Dissensus, Economic and Political Weekly, Bangalore Review, etc.

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