The poems in this book are not linked by any single theme. There is however, as the title suggests a general sense of atrophy in the world around us and more than one poem engages with the theme of communal attrition and the rise of fascist mentalities in the Indian context. The poems are very limited in the sense of not appealing to the universal except in occasional outbursts of carnal and passionate love. Sarcasm and a sense of injured merit taint many of the poems in this collection. The sweetly and naively flowing brooks of peace, love and nationalist pride to be found in the great models of contractual excellence and traditional wisdom like Tagore and Sri Aurobindo are utterly and thankfully absent.