All things Language, all things Culture
I took out the trash when you left. There are metaphors for these situations but nothing comes to mind tonight. There's only eggshells and coffee grounds and crinkled yellow wrapper from that horrid food we got last week. It was oily. It gave you heartburn. I think I am losing at this. This ending thing.… Continue reading Heartburn
The void is my friend. She has come to my door after ages. I fed her. Persimmons, cheese, rice made fragrant with lime leaves. I clothed her. In blue and silver. Silk and diamond. I poured her water from a mountain spring. I read to her the scribbles I have etched on my soul every… Continue reading Anatomy of an absence
Do not name your darkness, yet. Speak soft, gently... gently... Take the long way round. Take the stair by the patio, or the passage through the backyard. Cover your lamp, stay close to the bush. Your darkness awaits by the window. It is a lovely window still, if you but squint your eyes and the… Continue reading Hush
I sit up a little straight every time your footsteps approach. Pit pat pit pat they come, and then fade away.Always the same. Saunter. That's the word. The smell the sound the touch. The touch of a saunter is creepy. Yet I always forget that when you touch me. Touched me.I have listened for that… Continue reading The Unchosen
'Mobile Girls Koottam' is a collection of freewheeling conversations between six factory worker women sparkling with wit, camaraderie, and humor that reveal deep and often dark insights about gender, class, and caste equations that Indian working women have to navigate in their everyday lives.
This gorgeous little book is an astonishing feat of fantasy and deserves every bit of the praise it got. Rating: 5/5.
Digging is hard work, especially if you're digging alone. The drop of sweat that, Originating from the hairline has trickled down the inevitability of your brow and now trembles upon the lash, Let it cloud your eye. No one is there to look at through the haze No hands disturbing the air, no feet pushing… Continue reading At the End of the Heart, There is Steel
In the dream, I am walking. The chain around my foot rattles like a hungry snake. Yet I am walking, floating... down the sleek black streets of my past as if there is no chain around my ankle. As if this rain-soaked evening is as fresh and untainted as the day its first memory was… Continue reading Look Elsewhere
Poison penetrates me, drop by drop. I stand before her gaping mouth and count the rotting teeth. Row upon row of stones dark with ever-oozing blood and pus, and I think of the depths the poison would have to reach before being able to carve out such exquisite pain from their steadfast roots. The roots… Continue reading Purgatory
This is about love, and the fear that comes with that territory. I guess.
In Other Words 