The wall protects me. Once, it was built on me. by Daipayan Nair


Death! Isn’t that the
smile one smiles

with a bug
on his palm?

Oh shit! Beep…

A thumbprint on the
send button
beneath the rubble.


Yellow. A bruised
hand holds my chin; makes
me look at her

The glass slides down
an innocence.
Fried Cauliflowers?

I see happiness in its
real brown. I realise, I can only buy it

as I have lost the free.

‘My pillow. In that colony,
above which some
dreams drive by’ she says
Yellow. The bruised hand
holds my chin

‘Sir. Are dreams heavy?’
Green. She seemed so

Red. Sir, the road’s blocked

There’s a collapsed


The Sun is a vodafone
which makes you a globe
in my desk

as my roof calls yours.

‘There is an expectation
in me which expects yours

We both are responsible
as we carry’

Inside, the tv hands me
a car, out of a debris.

I watch the number plate

I watch…


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