In this poignant poem, Gopal states that morphine provides solace amidst hunger and suffering to keep love alive, exclusively for Different Truths. 

I ate garbage day and night.
In those days, if I was lucky,
got leftover cold rice and salt.
that would make my day.

All were visible and all illusive.

I had a bigger heart than anyone.
then my lover was there.
we used to share our food.
we had no money.

We did not count our pain.

Once or twice a week
I got beaten black and blue
for stealing hot biriyani or lukewarm 
Chow mien from roadside food stalls.

My heart was tongue then.

All the love is gone now.
We lived on our miasma,
the morphine of our cracked bones.
half for me, half for her.

My heart cannot go on any longer.

I do not know, then,
how much one hand is like another hand,
the hand that torments 
or rights our wrong.

Hunger is the only story I know.

Picture design by Anumita Roy

Gopal Lahiri

Gopal Lahiri, a prolific bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer, and translator, has 32 published books, including eight solo/jointly edited volumes. His poetry and prose grace over 150 global journals and anthologies, with translations into 18 languages across 17 countries. Nominated for the 2021 Pushcart Prize and 2025 Best of the Net, he earned the 2020 Setu Excellence Award and 2024 First Jayanta Mahapatra National Award. His work features in the Penguin Book of Poems on Indian Cities.