Published Work
I dreamt I orbited high above the deepest reaches of the Earth’s core where Wisdom winters (Published in FlashFlood)
When it was time, I stepped into the bath full of spider webs. Some quivered with rage. Some crackled like silence does, like pomegranate seeds do. I crusted over their collective mutiny of light, shimmer, shade, and thought to myself—it’s time to rest my maudlin...
Of Songs, Thresholds, and Slippers (Published in the Epistemic Literary)
A new song sung; nay, belted out by a familiar female voice floods the car as Idrive to the library one morning— Main thaare paon ki jutti na Ke jad jee kare per li utaar di I’m not the slipper on your footthat you use and discard at your whim I dial up the volume....
“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 (Published in the Porch Litmag)
Published in the Porch Litmag 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...
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 (Published in The Hoogly Review)
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....