Telebhaja

The main industry

in Kolkata—

real estate

and telebhaja.

Someone keeps launching

fritters in oil.

The telebhaja drown,

rise steadily, and brown.

The smell of kerosene

and smoky besan

stirs this market’s

appetite for itself.

Buildings arise,

flats unoccupied.

Everyone’s on the pavement.

These pavements are hard to traverse.

They’re where clothes are sold.

They’re tunnel and arcade.

You pass one point in time

to another as you weave through stalls.

The pavement is kitchen.

The busy incursion

and extension of habitation is constant

until wherever one walks

is home.

A hand scoops potato peels

and fingers brush your breast. You notice

telebhaja soak up the paper.