The book goes into the refrigerator

My slippers are under my clothes

I look for something –

Now, what is it I am looking for

I find a piece of paper, I look at it intently

It is important, I think, must be kept safely

I lift my mattress and put it there

How did these things get there? A spoon, a towel

What is this in my hand? How did it come here?

They trouble me, I do not know what to do

I climb up the bed and lay down

Sleep envelopes me, things happen

They trouble me, I get up . . .

I need to find it, it must be kept somewhere.




I wanted to go home. Ma would be waiting for me

This was not my home

When I told him I wanted to go home, he looked at me

He said, this is your home

Why did he say that, my son

Was he saying the truth? I listened to him

He said, that is your room, this is your bed

I followed him into the room

Looked at him, listened to him

Why did he say that? Did he not know?

No, this was not my home

My home was there, in that place

Ma would be there, my brothers too

I wanted to go there. I could not.

Could someone please take me there?


About the Poet

Dr. Pulugurtha is Head and Associate Professor in the department of English, Brahmananda Keshab Chandra College and has taught courses at West Bengal State University and Rabindra Bharati University. Her research areas are British Romantic literature, Postcolonial literature, Indian writing in English, literature of the diaspora and film. She is a creative writer and writes on travel, Alzheimer’s Disease, film, short stories and poetry. Her work has been published in The Statesman, Kolkata, in the anthology Tranquil Muse and online – Café Dissensus, Coldnoon, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Setu. She guest edited the June 2018 Issue of Café Dissensus on Travel.