Category: Uncategorized
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On seeing
Her gaze struck me, almost by mistake, as I was leaning against one of the white columns of Connaught Place. I saw her seeing others and we looked at each other, perhaps for a little more than three seconds. I lingered my look in recognition: we both belonged to a secret club of seeing, whose…
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Jaipur 2008: late fragment
On that hot summer evening, I was walking down the stairs to return a book of poems by Tomas Tranströmer to K., who was waiting for me in the living room, when I saw an exquisite butterfly: some unknown chalk like white, dark velvet black with two crimson streaks on the upper side of the…
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#red
Last night, the sound of my own heartbeat woke me up. It beat so loudly, so certainly, as if it would continue to beat forever. I lay there listening to it for a while, trying to understand why and how these things inside our chests work and suddenly I remembered Amrita Sher-Gill. Yesterday, I had…
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Bitter Orange
As I walked up the stairs, I saw smoke in intervals behind the door and I stood there transfixed by his presence without a body and for less than a moment, the smoke from his cigarette became his spirit moving about in our room, looking perhaps for something vanished long ago Like that orange from…
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A little red love note
Sometimes, I forget that you can remember me almost as much and as little. Because I am always inside myself, I forget, dear, that I exist outside. That other people can see me, and that I am as seen, as visible and perhaps as invisible as the others. That I am not the only one…
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A short photo about red
I hesitated to enter the room as I saw him playing an imaginary piano and I looked and looked at his hand till it became separate from his body and I thought how beautiful, how different his hands look from the rest of him, almost as if they were someone else’s hands with someone else’s…
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On being almost 25
I remember waking up from the flash of the first Kodak point and shoot my father had brought home one night, I must have that photograph somewhere: my mother, almost asleep, almost awake looking at my father almost with annoyance after which the camera was mostly used to take family photographs, just sometimes, when I…
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What Saved My Soul/Alok Dhanwa
What saved my soul Light from some cheap candles A couple of boiled potatoes bonfire of dry leaves, and earthen pots beds of straw and the straw coloured moon the vagrant boys of street plays wearing fragments the sound of their voice like that of Truth fighting chasing away rioters from every corner, theatre, and…
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Mir/Alok Dhanwa
Talking about Mir is as beautiful as Mir And your saying all that in the candour of ardour, heart and heart repeating about heart saying, insisting that your heart Janab, is the heart which has returned from the streets of Mir. मीर पर बातें करो तो वे बातें भी उतनी ही अच्छी लगती हैं जितने मीर…
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last night
A pink figure with red laser eyes greeted me on a road that reminded me of the mario world games before charles rosen started walking on the piano and I became the musical note and walked around the piano that also resembled the roads of the mario world and a little gnome walked out of…
Beyond Six Rivers 