Category Archives: Poetry and Fiction

It’s in a country without summer, That I perhaps learn to be gentle. With things like insects and bees. It’s not with annoyance or fear, that I wave you away. Little winged one. I do it to send. You, away … Continue reading →

Between the two of them, they often had these moments, when they compared themselves to their parents. At 30, her mother had two children. At 40, his father had helped his younger brother set his household up. His mother could … Continue reading →

Sitting in a theatre, mostly empty. Perhaps this is how I like films. From the front row. The screen eating me. No commentary. But not silent. Exactly how life should be perhaps. Front row, clean, with space. But not empty … Continue reading →

At the holy river, by the ghats, Mother sheds her usual shame. She wears her black petticoat. Her numerous sins. And little else. The little one is asked to join. For even at six, one has aleady – stolen, lied, … Continue reading →

We look up, and see Shiva. In this form, he looks different. He is cherubic. With fatty thighs. A belly, unrestrained. Full of milk. And what bulges like pure butter. (Perhaps they wanted Krishna?) What would a child destroy? Small … Continue reading →

Outside the cocoon Of this meandering train (to Manchester) It rains on sheep and fields Slashing their souls, on the window pane. They slide on the glass, a vertical dance of droplets with tails. I think then that they look … Continue reading →