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...
by Arti Jain | Feb 14, 2024 | Print and online
Plant your gaze on anything but his face. His face—less than ten in years lived holding orbs cave-rimmed dark, deep. At the traffic signal. Your car hums a cool song at 42 degrees Celsius. Pick up your phone and stare at the screen. His eyes, masterful...
by Arti Jain | Feb 5, 2024 | Print and online
Devi Divine of garden pots (and patch of green plot) stood verdant resplendent at my dehleez and said Your garden, my child, is full to the brim. I’ve done what I could with hibiscus and neem. Not forgetting frangipani, of course. She holds, like all my creatures, the...
by Arti Jain | Feb 5, 2024 | Print and online
I pick pebbles from riverbeds and distant shores mark them with names: places they were picked and arrange them on my desk, windowsills. Indelible bookmarks of a day in the sun, family fun. Holidays far from home. Kashmir, Chicago, Cyprus. Holidays. Homes. Hiraeth run...
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