by Moumita Alam
The men—
always want Virgin
Virgin Mojito, Virgin Vagina,
Virgin Women and
Virginest Virgin Places of the Virgin Beauty.
They came one by one
They wanted to explore more
So they came with Bulldozers,
Long Silky Extra Buttery Roads
On the way they cut down, smashed and plucked out the bushes
Cleaned the lips up with crowbars.
Still, they wanted it extra smooth
like Durex Condom with extra Lubrication
So they needed extra force
Lubricants were never enough
They wanted it tight and wide
They started using Dynamites
They ripped open the cunts of the Virgin Mountains
And the jubilant men named them:
Exploration — Solo Trip —
Virgin Destination — Development.
They were never done
So they dug up a long tunnel and let their engines pass through it
They sang together —
Kaasto Maaza Hai Railama…
tying Teesta, Balason, Raidak, Jaldhaka, Torsa, and Kaljani in blindfolds named, Dams!
They kept digging and screwing
until the last breath of the rivers rose
and drowned who couldn't escape the wrath…
They ran away
And sitting in the cozy rooms wrote in the breaking news in the Capital—
A NATURAL CALAMITY: F-L-O-O-D!
About the Poet
Moumita Alam is a poet and essayist from the northern regions of Bengal, India. She writes powerfully on identity, marginality, gender, religion, and resistance. Her first poetry collection The Musings of the Dark was published in 2020.
Her work often reflects the lived realities of marginalized communities and environmental crises in North Bengal. She has contributed poetry and essays to platforms including Feminism in India, LiveWire (The Wire), and Outlook India.
Note: Bio compiled from publicly available interviews and author pages. Any corrections or updated bio from the poet will be published on request.Note from the Editor
Gonotaar Literary publishes occasional poetry and cultural writing that intersects with our broader public-interest mission. In this urgent piece, Moumita Alam bears witness to the environmental and human cost of unrestrained “development” in the hills and rivers of North Bengal. Published here with the poet’s permission, the poem is offered as a creative protest and a plea for accountability. We encourage readers to engage respectfully and reflect on the human stories behind the headlines.
