Freedom

The cat holding one of the peace pigeons
in its maws looks at the shadows
the flag and the banderole cast on the ground.
The fluttering plays with its nerves.

Afternoon scoops up the confetti, hoots,
scares the cat away. The pigeon lies dead.
Afternoon’s eyes are wide. It wears nothing.

The parade queues in front of the kiosks
divvying up juice and biriyani.

Kushal Poddar