Category: Uncategorized
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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…
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travelling (ii)
Taxi Driver, Paris: You from India? Yes. Oh, I couldn’t live there. Very dangerous. Have you been there? No, no. I go only to Nice and Italy. Oh, okay. So many people from China and India. France is filled with them. And Muslims. Everywhere you go you get halal food. Because they don’t want to…
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travelling (i)
My Europe trip started with a visa application to the France consulate in Kolkata. Four of us were travelling — two from London– and I was the only one called for an interview. 24 years old, female, single, unemployed – I understood. (I went because everything was already paid for.) I was granted a visa…
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Jaipur note I.
Three paintings of three gods on an indigo wall. Three paintings on an indigo wall. An indigo wall. The barber next to it and his mirror: another man. Few steps away: a tea stall. A woman in a red saree is making tea while two men in white shirts wait just when an autowalla steps…
