The tide comes
to wipe the fishy smell
and stale footprints
off the sands on shore.
Come, kids !
And see without touch
the architecture
of tiny crabs
woven on sands.
Fleet of boats amouth the river
Boatman,
can you ferry us
to the girls of Bali isles
worshipping Baali Naag?
O, how far is the isle of cloves!
rich maritime past
a beauty spot
on the chin of Chandipur.
From behind the Sail’s misery
are heard the moanings
of Tapoi or the Kosambi Princess?
O sea, give us back
grandpa’s walking stick
grandma’s toe-rings
her box of tales
give them back, please.
Stay, don’t disturb her.
Ear-blasting missiles
kept her sleepless over the night.
Kids,
Collect your dreams
the coloured sea shells
The surging waves target you.
Assembled here
shells of nuts and eggs
they will suffice for the shouting sea.
Let’s go.
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