An old man sits in a corner of the verandah, gazing at the distant horizon?remembering a homeland he can never return to, a home and hearth left behind in exchange for an uncertain future in an alien land, his evenings tinged with sorrow. From such moments, Mukherjee?s poems draw their quiet power, evoking the ache of loss: of homeland, of loved ones, and of the self in the anonymity of modern life. Shaped by images and myths, and written with empathy and delicacy, these poems linger on rootlessness and apathy, the fragility of human relationships, and the fleeting, impermanent nature of existence.