From virus to virusI have kept my date with not dying,tossing and turning in sheets,cough syrups and repurposed antibiotics.Inside me, the pathogen worms,outside me, the pathogen storms,in the middle of it all: a spent spring.Intervals of time don’t matter,intervals of…
Tag: Writing
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…
Unwaiting for Godot
Disquieted and quietened we stand, the pair of us at the brink of the Internet, conjoined and disjointed at the splice of consciousness and a unique resource locator. Beguiled enough to have waited for ages, we have figured it’s time…
’Oumuamua
My muse is a furious fugitive from a foreign galaxy, not unlike the ‘intergalactic interloper ’Oumuamua’, who having orbited the fuzzy nebula of my brain is now poised for an exodus to unknown dark matters. In the years now a…
Why Did the Chicken Write a Blog?
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…
The Orb of Hereafter
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…
Nightfall of Blogging
As the nightfall of blogging closes in on me, I am more inclined to exhaling in private than gasping online, more willing to navigate through the bushes and backwaters than honking in the perpetual crescendo of the world wide web.…
With the Cicadas
The evening is long with shadows of the afternoon chopped and spent at the edges of green black leaves of pubescent jackfruit trees. With the cicadas I pause and creek. With the cicadas I wax and shrink. A blackbird took…
The Silence of the Scrolls
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…
A Pony in a Carousel
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…
Writing is So Long
As a student of Logic in my younger years, the first two examples of absolutely positive and negative statements I stumbled upon were, (1) Man is mortal. (2) No man is perfect. So utterly true are these sentences and so…
Breeze on the Grass
“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamouring to become visible." ~Vladimir Nabakov My dear readers, we have been together these past years. I have known…
One Grain Amongst the Storm 