Skin burning, eyelids leaden. Hot air. Hot air in, hot air out. Exhale. Searing the skin of my nostrils. When you breath in fire One cannot but breathe out fire. The whirrr of the fan. Cooked air circulating. In the swirl of heat My eyes…
Tiny, invisible in light Persistent Its your persistence that leaves me astonished Female Always the aggressor, always female Resilient Resilient to any attack Fertile, Fervent Hungry. Unwelcome You couldn’t care less Intoxicated as you are By the hunger for survival. Motherfuckingbloodsuckers. (A verse on mosquitoes.)…
Is this you? Are these your eyes? The thin hands gripping the swing Could those be the ones that hold my hand? Those eyes looking up Smiling And not-so-smiley watchful. That dress. In this failed memory of mine It’s the only snitch that make a…
ENDLESS DREAM I have this dream, a recurring dream. Of an unlit sprawling place… a house. Its windows are alive They look at you like eyes Unseeing, cold, insurmountable space. This house is in a maidan The maidan has a gate. Im standing outside sometimes……
Sometimes i wish i were an illustrator. One image to capture the clutter of words, the waterfall of emotions that cascade with a gesture or an accent or the sight of a person. I’m hunting in my head for the right set of words, that…
I love that you fwd my WhatsApp messages To your inbox Because you want to read every word i say Every forward i send Carefully Like the raindrops I collected From the grills of my window After the rains were over. Every drop is the…
Sometimes the most terrible day… the day everything changes in a very long time; can come disguised as a regular day. Because if we know that this day was going to be the day that would change the way you saw the world, that lessons…
Today i passed the suburb in which i grew The building where i spent the happiest years of my life was a grey dwarf. The paanwala who used to leer at me Grinning, Exposing bloodcoloured paanstained teeth He wasn’t there. The cobbler, his son and…
HAPPY VISHU ALL In March when the laburnum, in full bloom Leans forward, bent with its linear sunlight-yellow blossoms Almost weary with the weight of spring My heart lifts. . And it’s here That featival of mine with the fragrance of crushed cardamom, Mingled with…
Monday mornings 8 am is my cabwalla I walk seeing him, without looking at him He extracts himself from his group of cabwalla bhais And inserts himself behind the steering wheel I don’t tell him where to go, he doesn’t ask He simply knows, I’m…
