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Hubris Lost
I remember looking into the mirror, Gazing at giant black-brown eyes With little flecks on them. My button nose came in the way as I leaned in And misted over all details. Without these fragile pieces of glass I wear everyday, I am but a blurred man In the mirror And without; And…
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So we beat on…
Rows and rows of bookshelves. Simple, dark wood. Unpolished. Yellowed spines in each. Tropical dust motes bouncing around in the sunlight. Flecks from pages, the earth, skin and hair all intermingling. Hushed little corners. Dark but not damp. American books. English books. Satire. sf. Westerns. Thrillers. Best Sellers. Reference books. Each with a little paper…
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The mockery
He waited, for his body to return to his command again. It felt like an eternity. The motion of the blades of grass, the seemingly giant drops of sweat and blood pricking his right eye, the harsh grating of his breath which felt like that of a machine outside of him, the escalating weight of…
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Oh Fitzgerald, how I hate you
When the poems in your head don’t suffice. When you are left rummaging through The detritus of those which mean nothing Nothing at all to you: The umbilical of the past, the metaphors of the blasted English language The rapidly edited scenes of escape from The black-and-white Western films That mean Fatherhood… The VHS tape scenes that…
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Displaced, or, On Reading Sacco
A bedside mirror stood forlorn By the building entrance. The hot sun beat down And I was plunging into ice-cold Water, as I walked on. The pages turned themselves, As I flitted from ’38 To ’56: Gestapo to Israeli. There is an Eid, To remember Abraham’s sacrifice But where is the Book for this Age?…
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Comedy Nights with Kapil – the laughing face of North Indian gender discrimination
The things we find funny or laugh at, often tell us more about who we are, then anything else. Watching TV while sitting with the family (parents, siblings et al) is not something I get to do very often. So i decided to make the most of it, and actually pay attention for a few…
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A childish rant (or not, depending on which side of the fence you are on)
How many times have you had ‘grow up’ thrown at you? If you are anything like me, the number would be pretty high. I was recently browsing the comments of various articles on The Guardian and Youtube and it seems to be an alarmingly common appeal in Western culture. I see it bandied about on…
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The true wasteland
Reading about the centuries long sackings of 12th and 13th Century Indian centers of learning, religion and entire cities… Thousands of years of knowledges just torched and discarded. And now we are left only with the legacy of civilization in decline. Funny that more is said of Mao’s cultural revolution. The locations of our temples,…
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Jamshedpur, late 80’s
If I was a painter, Like the untiring sun… I would recreate: The motes of dust, That fill up a quiet, quiet afternoon bedroom; Revealed, As things of complete abandon Sometimes zipping, Sometimes floating Oblivious, completely oblivious To the pull Of gravity and reason Settling everywhere, From our own skin From the window sill The…
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Wafers and Cake
The taste of salt from those soggy potato wafers, Mixing deliciously with the saccharine icing That is the birthday paper plate ritual. That little silver ball discovered By the tongue, suddenly. A tentative bite And it crumbles Into something surprisingly sweet. The taste of salt from that trembling Self-concious corner of the mouth. As tears…
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Between 2 Sips 