India, June 10 -- While the sun beats, the dead tree gives no shelter, and the cricket no relief. The world is a heap of broken images.

This evocation from poet TS Eliot's Waste Land can get uncomfortably personal. After all, a substantial chunk of our lives consists of a heap of unfinished fragments. We rarely reach the end of things. Our incomplete endeavours are of many types-a broken New Year resolution, an aborted love affair, or even a thing as banal as the Uber driver cancelling the ride. Here are three of citizen Arjit Roy's many untitled verses that failed to find their end. This evening, the Rohini-based poet scrolls through his mobile phone, showing the poems he couldn't complete due to various reasons, despite his best attemp...