What stops you is the blue door, the bolt unbolted but the lock firmly in place. Why a door, you wonder, on the cover of a book that boldly announces its ‘English poetry’ status and by doing so goes beyond barriers? Because the poets in this book, except that we know they belong to the Indian diaspora, could have come from anywhere in the world, and actually do. Brooklyn, London, Jamaica, Toronto, even the Pont Alexandre Trois, anywhere and everywhere Indians have settled. So much so that a poet like John Siddique has been described as “a stellar British poet” in The Spectator.