by Arti Jain | Feb 17, 2024 | Creative Non-Fiction
Born of Punjabi stock, I’ve inherited the following traits: 1. An innate urge to use made-up, superfluous, and rhyming words. For example, kee laoge—cha, sha, ya paani, shaani? (What would you like? Tea/shea or Water/shawter?) 2. An involuntary impulse to...
by Arti Jain | Feb 17, 2024 | Print and online
when days were mangoes, I sliced open a Sun slid one half over the horizon and kept the other in my pocket pulp, juice, smell, innocence I was copying my grandfather – his kameez pockets were always full of jaggery the mango seed, I scraped clean with my tongue, my...
by Arti Jain | Feb 17, 2024 | Print and online
This defined Love (of stories and tragic ends) La ILA Majnu Romeo Juliet, Heer-Ranjha is a kite carved out of SKY poured and pushed into frame-hearts of mortals to pulsate with pulse in a lover’s chest. Lines of colour, of religion and all games earthly made-up tether...
by Arti Jain | Feb 17, 2024 | Print and online
All the things I’m meant to receive today; sun warmth on yoga mat bird song orange jasmine lush lime peeking through windows vacuum cleaner whirrs; the cleaner is back sweat on brow hover over me like a child whose mother died; she’s four years old unsure, she waits...
by Arti Jain | Feb 14, 2024 | Print and online
Deodars tall. Tall and rock-hard. Soft, the softest mist on mountains melts you into me— hidden half, in full view those valleys and those peaks. I sprinkle pink Himalayan salt on sliced tomatoes, freshly washed rocket leaves. Our memories. Daisies must’ve filled the...
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