The ruddy earth had rained unflinching plague on a land fertility is an abhorred word here guns plough and saplings search for shame in slighted congruency knives enucleated the eye of a stranger democracy long back while Prakash Jha filmed its ever growing carcasses, birds sutured lips money nurtures in stale blood there is a buzzing of flies from vendettas emetic of a slaughter season chat puja every year cajoles to wounds maimed and dried hard dung cakes the giggling brahmin tries pouring Ganges water Papiya Ghosh believed in Bihar instead a sky masquerading a poem incised her mind and reason on Third December Two Thousand and Six.
