A posture that ignores a constant knock on the door
Turning away stubbornly and not to look back again; not even in repentance
The hands are burdened with collected memorabilia
Wooden table looks forlorn, a frozen quadrupedal looks dumbfounded
No more coffee stains and endless gossips about the rations
Now, space will be occupied with reclusive stirring of emotions
Window will stare at the half-eaten bread and careless scribbles on napkins
Drooping flowers mourn the chasm of endless emotional distance
Minutes stretch eternally through the labyrinth of jumbled dishes
Hunger balances precariously at the edge of uncertainty
~Amitav
Amitav Chowdhury 