Amit Shankar Saha

Rain Inside




Rain Inside


It is raining inside me

But you can’t see,

Clouds of words enter me

But you can’t see.


It always rains in Macondo,

Do you know?

A hundred years of solitude inside me,

Do  you know?


You come back from a holiday in Venice,

Too exhausted to enjoy the rains;

I stay quarantined in Oran,

Too exhausted to enjoy the rains.


The precipitation inside me

Dissolves my soul,

Distills my tears,

Dilates my heart,

Dilutes my orgasm;

You know, you see,

But you are too exhausted

Of all the rains, outside me.




Damning the Sky


There’s no answer blowing in the wind,

Summer’s not the summer that has been,

It doesn’t even rain inside

Inside the night a mid-day sun,

Inside the day a darkened night,

Birds hide at dawn,

Chirps muffled in humidity,

On sweaty skin air sticks like memory.

Shahid says, “It rains as I write this,

Mad heart, be brave.”

I look around the parched land,

It is like nostalgia,

Nothing alive will sprout out,

In the desert of dead deeds

I can plough a furrow,

Plant seeds of tomorrow,

And wait for the missing rains.

Shahid, it doesn’t rain any more,

Mad heart, how brave can you still be?

Someone must have dammed the sky.




By Bread Alone


A baker in the bakery

once hid a message

in my packet of brown bread.

At home when I unwrapped

those slices for breakfast,

I found nothing secreted.

I turned over the slices,

their dark brown margins

and their light brown centres.

There was nothing cryptic

inside the leavened spaces,

nothing I could have tasted.

So I ate it uninterpreted –

I don’t like spreading rumours

about our racial biases.


Amit Shankar Saha is a faculty member in the Department of English at Seacom Skills University. He is also a researcher, a short story writer and a poet.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *