Published Work
“What about Mummy’s saris?” I ask my father after thirty years
“Tsk…later, eat these first.” Daddy points to piping hot samosas. ‘Got them specially for you.’ It’s been thirty years. He doesn’t know I’ve turned gluten free. I ask again. “We must’ve given them to the maids or something…it’s been thirty years.” “Not even one?”...
Yeti and the Sewing Machine
One Wednesday in August, I decide to haiku and eulogize my mother. Not at the same time, of course. I could never fit a haiku around my Ma. 17 syllables would be far too many for her euphony. Ghrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrr was the only sound she made; even before she...
Questions Frida Kahlo wanted to ask but painted ‘The Love Embrace, the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Diego, Me and Senor Xoloti’ instead
Is this love? Is mossy green the right shade for Earth? Why doesn’t love last? Why doesn’t blood? Why does this longing? How to paint gnawing? Can’t figure out and yet I paint brokenness, roots—why? Where did I read about Shiva’s third eye? Did they say it symbolizes...
Hush
When I was young, I saw whispers escape the fog of their memories and spread on the kitchen floor. They sat facing the fire burning the timber of tales of partition in such a way that it sealed the knots, grain of every pain felt, seen, heard—of sisters who jumped...
Aap, Hum and Comfort in a Banarasi Traffic Jam
Subah Banaras, shaam Banaras Rehta har dum jam Banaras Morning Banaras, evening Banaras Stuck forever in a jam (traffic) Banaras Khatt-khatt-khattak—khatt-khatt-khattak—the rhythm of the train, a lazy sun, trees, shrubs, grass—snuggled, smothered under winter fog,...
We are not God
“The sex is so good.” I used to gush like a mynah bird. Heard a bulbul sing recently? Intently? Kyun nahin, nahin, kyun nahin, nahin. Sounds don’t translate; words do. Be mindful where you place your words, your love. Making love is not the same as love making....
This thin world
this thin world all full of talk talks of cyclones that blew out stars stars too dim to listen to prayers we send send to them as kites tethered to lines of crystal crystal when crushed cuts through flesh flesh bleeds, fridges rust this thin world
Silence
We drive to the park for our weekend walk. You, me and our angry complaining silence superglued to us tight. Shut. I turn the seams of my thoughts inside out can’t find any traces of the us we’ve practiced all these years. So, I turn the radio on—for company. Noise....
But before you ask how to eat a mango, learn how to choose one
Don’t commit the folly of using your eyes to pick the best. Ripe, luscious, juicy. Tsk. Don’t have a clue, do you? Superficial fools! Listen, pay attention—close your eyes. Don’t peak. Hover over the fruit with other senses; smell, touch, gut, historical evidence....
Jamun Tree
“You can’t play with those boys under the jamun tree!” warned his grandmother as Amit reached out to push the heavy black metal gate open. “Why?” He wanted to scream the why out, but knew better. “Because they’re dirty, filthy scum…those jamadars and bhangis!” She...