​Calcutta
by Ananya S Guha

​I will go to you
only when the bird dies
or stoops in a premeditated manner
like a prayer, or oxymoron.

I will return to you
only when your slum dwellers
smile with mouthful of rice,
not emaciated rupee notes

I will walk your sidewalks
only when the street child slate
in hands, with gleaming teeth
goes to school.

I will go to your funeral pyres
only when I die
not the slum dwellers
not the rag pickers
not the beggar in sidewalks
or the dog picking at bins, or clean garbage.

Only when I die
Only when I die
Only when I live.