poetry
-
To Be Free
To be able to speak one’s mind. ‘No!’ ‘I don’t agree.’ ‘I don’t like that.’ ‘No, I won’t!’ To be without excuses without explanations without apologies. Is that what it means to be free? To be able to express rage, in words that say just what they mean. And then… move on. No pent-up emotions Continue reading
-
Morning Walk
I know we have not met. But I know you. Head held high, airpods in, Gap tracks on, arms swinging. Walking. Walking resolutely every day. Every day, before you reach the metro station we walk by each other. I am the one huffing by. Hidden silvery scars stretching across my skin Like a galaxy’s arms Continue reading
-
Today, She Gets to Play
Romance has begun anew. Lying gentle and bright on a bed of tender laps moving in and out of the Arabian bay. Madness bubbles in minds laughter escapes lips milk spilled on waves as night melts into day, The full moon has her way. The sea smiles. Draped in a blanket of light, Flung, not Continue reading
-
Motherhood – And You Are Angry
And you are angry at her for being careless and silly You are angry because you wanted to write and now… and now, after a whole day spent being mum, when you desperately wanted to write, you have to be mum for another half an hour. You are angry because you feel this way. You Continue reading
-
All That I Want…
A beautiful old wooden table with scratches smoothened by age. T’s heart shot through with an arrow shot by J, jostling for space with 25.8.1973. a butterfly and a faded pyramid. My journal on top, waiting for me to pen secrets, hopes, poems, petty thoughts, and some lonely stories. Five cubby holes to stack paper Continue reading
-
White Lies
It started with a lie… a tiny white lie. I console myself, ‘no one else is hurt.’ Anyway, never again, I tell myself. The lie resides in my yesteryears. Now, I am in the future. My tomorrows have morphed to the present. Time turning slowly to dust. I have made peace with truth withheld, or Continue reading
-
And Then, There Is Grief
As a writer, I wondered… Can I create poetry that tore? What after all, did I know about pain too pure to bear, or grief too deep to share? What did I know? Indeed! I looked up the meaning of words that stood in for grief. Distressed, in agony, desolate, in purgatory, or drowning in Continue reading
-
Melancholia
… of a writerly kind A half-remembered tune melts into me. I rise up trying to meet it… grab it make it fully mine. But the very acting of reaching rips the melody out of my mind. Just the ghost of it stays behind to tease me with its unformed lines. Haunted by a feeling, Continue reading
-
A Quay in Girvin
Something powerful a monster roiling underneath. The waves of Girvin speak a tongue deeper than any I have seen. It speaks not for ears but for the beating heart and the soul that churns within Hypnotic… the waves rise invitingly resisting the pull of ancient primitive forces that call me from deep within. I think Continue reading
-
Poem Excerpt
Am slowly limping back into social media. My novel’s final draft is almost done, and I now realise that it is not the final draft. I want to make a few more changes… Aaargh. To paraphrase Deepak from Masaan, “yeh drafts kahe katam nahi hote bey?” (Why doesn’t re-writing come to an end man?) So, Continue reading
PAPER DREAMS 