A Poet at the City’s Corner

In the half-light of memory and rain, voices linger — some spoken, most left unsaid. Bikash Gogoi’s poems move like slow-motion film: the hush of a gallery, the fever of summer nights without power, the ache of streets that remember your footsteps. Each verse is a frame, grainy with nostalgia, tinted with longing. Here, rivers keep secrets, balconies hold unfinished conversations, and even silence burns with meaning. Between truth and dream, these poems do not rush; they invite you to stay, to watch the light change, to feel the quiet revolutions happening just beneath the skin.