Just three weeks ago, on the way
to the polling station
we saw a single, half-eaten
myna bird lying in the road.
Neither of us mentioned it;
the air was already
so heavy that day.
I no longer trust omens
and portents:
just last week, I dreamt
that Amit Shah was in jail,
but last night, I’m sure
I heard him whispering
in Kejriwal’s ear.