It has come upon meonce more, this month ofinterrogations, the rat raceto the roads I never thoughtI’d take. Behind me and beyondthe misty miles, lie themuch-dreamt meadowsthat will never be my home now. They beckon me yet againlike the foliage…
From the Diary of a Covid Positive Fugitive
It was on the Saturday the 24th of October, 2020, with the three days’ holiday in its infancy, that I dozed off with a mild ache pulsing through my meagre frame, right after the morning bout of toast and ginger-chai.…
This Drop Come Home
This drop on the sill, a distant cloud come home on wings of heaviness, or grief as I know.
The Jury and the Assassins
(This brief ghazal is dedicated to Disha Salian and Sushant Singh Rajput who were brutally murdered on June 08 and June 14 of the year 2020 seriatim, in the city of Mumbai.)
Month of August
Sullen rain simmers, pretends to slalom and surrenders,recoils in the clouds of sodden discontent.Arid thoughts smother the sapless jelly of life.It is the month of August, the fat middle ofan unrelenting virus, spinning off the sporesof a shivering November,it’s nowhere…
Exit the Ghost of Blogger
Confined to the peripheries of my home, looking out the window at a mysteriously pink moon rising day after day, I have of late been forced to cogitate on the wonders of being alive, the hump in the lawn not…
Such a Wuhan Moment!
I do not know whether the citizens of United States take Mr Trump literally or seriously, or both, and I am glad I am not subject to that trilemma. But I was thrilled when he called the Chinese Virus a…
Mind Lies like a Mango
Yes, I have descended to filching from weird quotes of indeterminate, ambivalent origin and intent. True, I have faltered, faded, fumbled and stumbled into that eternal bin. The crispy tang of the green fruit before ripening into succulence has mellowed…
In Which Leia Doesn’t Eat the Ice Cream
(Further to Bruno's Story) It seems I have troubled your heart, but it is a tale recount I must. So that next time you see a dog pup scrapping the bins for crumbs, you don’t wince in disgust. And when…
A Leader Passes Away
(Arun Jaitley: 1952—2019) The flag is at half-mast, a gloom shrouds the chancel of the land; The one who hugged oblivion was once the counsel of the land. Soft spoken, discreet, a maven of silken-tongued satires, He unmasked and foxed…
Lend Me the Assassin
What memories have etched this incision in the night? My heart will crumble without a reason in the night. The throbbing in the air is the labour of my breathing, Ardour of the sighs is a petition in the night.…
Bruno’s Story
At the end of long nights birds chirped and squawked, squirrels chattered their heads out. The wind rose and fell and the tall trees whispered. Footsteps swelled and footsteps receded. Footsteps stopped and guffawed and came to peep inside our home. Footsteps cackled.
