After the abrogation, but before Shaheen Bagh– the Ayodhya verdict was in the news, we all sensed a deepening dark. I think we were in Kolkata– or maybe I have that wrong; we were celebrating your love– I wanted to write you a song. It might have included lovers holding hands under tube lights– maybe dust, or my father’s hair– I tried, but it didn’t feel right. My friend, I did not tell you, but that was the day I decided to learn how to sing of the dark times, to banish the censors inside.
Two Hundred Poems Later, the No-Name Poet Tries to Explain