‘We brew the elixir of the past for concocting the future.’

In Harvesting Gods, Satya Mohanty turns to poetry as witness, elegy, and quiet rebellion. These poems move between the intimate and the cataclysmic— between the ache of desire and the violence of memory, the tremor of a sinking hillside and the hush of a single unanswered question. Mohanty listens closely to a world unravelling at its seams: myths rewritten as weapons, civility thinning in the public square, hills collapsing under the weight of ambition, histories shaken loose from their foundations. Yet within this turbulence, the poems search for tenderness, for the fragile threads of human longing, for the private spaces where desire becomes fire and wound, and memory reorders what we cannot bear to forget. Across sections this book moves from political meditation to ecological lament and then, towards a thin, persistent thread of hope, Mohanty’s voice remains steady and luminous—attentive to what breaks and what survives. Harvesting Gods gathers the fragments of a world undone by power, grief, and forgetting, and offers them back to us as invitation—towards clarity, conscience, and a more generous imagination.