There should be a Sanjib Sarcar Street.
And so there is: it winds round Entally
past the old steps unseen, and by the market
doubling back on itself, away from the roar
of Lower Circular, to where families have their landscape.
Here the Stream of Kindness runs close by.
And sometimes, if it runs out, still you may go
to be refreshed, at the Well of the Open Heart.
Ah this road Sanjib is here in England.
London you loved; and other cities abroad;
and every village, of the past, future, and now,
has the statue of a small man, vivid, alert,
a youth of 90. One of the great Kolkatans
has left us now. But we know of a pathway.