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Why Did the Chicken Write a Blog?

January 21, 2017

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child_chi01

ARNAB GOSWAMI: Can you tell this, on this channel, right in front of all of us: why can’t the chicken write a blog? The nation wants to know. RAHUL GANDHI: The chicken has written the biggest blog since Independence and is now running away from debate. If it allows me to post a comment, there […]

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The Orb of Hereafter

January 14, 2017

16 Comments

glob_hereafter_img

About a week shy of the onset of the New Year, I presumptuously augmented the copyright notice at my blog to 2017. Don’t mistake me, I have long stopped caring about the trolls looking forward to plagiarizing my mumbling —anyone with an ounce of gumption would rather honk his or her own larynx. Perhaps my […]

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Goodbye, Cynthia Jobin

December 25, 2016

37 Comments

girl-graduate_cj

I cannot say Cynthia Jobin was lonely when I met her, surrounded as she was by a swarm of friends, eagerly awaiting the next instalment of priceless poetry on her blog, Litleoldladywho.net. I also cannot say I met Cynthia Jobin in the traditional sense of the word; I was struck by her observations on the […]

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A Few Black Sheep and a Black Hole

December 16, 2016

22 Comments

j_joaquim_da_rocha

If I was never really proud to be a banker, these are certainly not the times to have a change of heart when the entire species is steeped in disgrace around these tracts of the planet. In the apocalyptic times when Prime Minister Modi has unleashed a panacea to exorcise the land of all things […]

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Haruki Murakami’s Well

September 14, 2016

44 Comments

wind-up_bird_chronicle_imb

Recently, an old friend of mine who also is under the bondage of a commercial bank, confessed to me he has been contemplating digging a well in the backyard of his house. The gushing fool that I am, I broke into an impromptu lecture about the deteriorating quality of underground water in the cities, advising […]

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The Same Night

August 18, 2016

44 Comments

thesamenight_img1x

“The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.” ~Pablo Neruda I was young when I first read those lines by Pablo Neruda, from a poem that I still hold as one of the best I have ever read in my life, and probably ever will, I had […]

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A Byte of Moonshine

July 10, 2016

37 Comments

steve_hanks_1

  Sharpen now a crescent for the rite of moonshine, Bullets will not halt the flight of moonshine. Clouds germinate on the zephyrs from wet hills, The heart leaps windward with the kite of moonshine. I count my blessings over the timeline of Facebook Waiting in the tunnels for a byte of moonshine. You have […]

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A Dewdrop Ghazal

June 27, 2016

26 Comments

adewdropgh2_ilyarepin

Get me worms of silk for the runes and a dewdrop, Seven folds of veil for a cocoon and a dewdrop. The mirror is in youth, and the jasmine in bloom, Smoky is the kohl like the moon in a dewdrop. Someone chiselled a solitaire on the finger of my beloved, I will dance with […]

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Protected: Wind in the Ruins

February 7, 2016

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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

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The Silence of the Scrolls

August 30, 2015

41 Comments

Image credit: Jan Steiner

It’s been a while since the nightingales sang in the darkness, fidgeting on boughs swaying in the night-wind. It’s been a while since the fingers splattered on the keyboard like an impromptu rain. There is this dike thin as rice paper, holding back rivulets of waste and repentance that I dare not let loose on […]

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The Pentagon Down

February 1, 2015

32 Comments

The Pentagon Down

The commander of the forces of associate provinces barged through the door of my tent two days before the clash of the legions. His chubby face was ashen with nothing less than volcanic fear; his fingers shook like peepal leaves in high winds. A deep guttural moan escaped his ample belly, suitably enough. “Senator,” he […]

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A Pony in a Carousel

January 28, 2015

28 Comments

dream-steed

Like a pony fettered to a carousel, I’ve been travelling miles after circular miles and yet not have moved a millimetre from the pole I am suspended. I am not in charge of this motion, nor do I control this stasis. I cannot even choose the music or the riders that cling to my back […]

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