It took a while… I am back, with the world

Dear Void, It has been 5 years, 9 months, and 6 days. It has taken 2 quick births and 1 long death. I peeked into you, at random moments over this period. I found comfort in your quiet existence. I visited old friends who heard your echoes. I read their replies over and over again....

Will be back soon: Gone Lookin’

Fear is a good thing[…]fear is what drives us to take risks and extend ourselves beyond our normal limits, and any writer who feels he is standing on safe ground is unlikely to produce anything of value. - Paul Auster, "Invisible" Dear Void, I have felt fear this past nine weeks. A lot of fear....

Spread the word

I look at my limp body in my arms and I wonder who saved whom. I can only hold the weight of my own conscience, talk the truth I know. Never a hero was made by saving himself: Completely untrue. You can read more about this philosophically forceful sculpture here.

Respectful & Necessary: India’s Daughter

I am posting this on March 9, 2015. A regular Monday. Rape is not just an International Women's Day issue. It is an everyday-of-the-year issue. Death and Birth of Nirbhaya On the night of December 16 2012 a 23-year-old woman, a medical student, was gang raped by 6 men in a moving bus in Delhi....

On rewriting inspiration

 When you ask me to revise a poem you ask me to meet again the Muse who seldom responds to invitation. She comes in suddenly through the door left open, announcing Her presence with words that have never sat together before. She says what She has to say and goes quiet; goes away or gets broken down into elements...

It is OUR loss

Voiceless art speaks volumes about a culture of courage. When made silent the message screams ferocious fear.   This is a shadorma which I wrote after reading the following quote, In this latest video, an unidentified man says Islam calls for the destruction of all idols. The museum worker was dismissive of this piety, saying the...

If this was my last poem…

If this was my last poem, I should suffer immeasurably. I'd wake late in the day- there'd be nothing in the early light of collective awakening to record in cursive letters. I'd eventually lose my sight for irony and ecstasy in the mundane, then life would be perfectly uninteresting. The ream of used printer paper recycled for blotted...

Erasure poetry: Stranded

Here's my second attempt at Erasure Poetry which is a type of Found Poetry. My first attempt was just an abridgement of the text! I have used the text from 'The Voyage Out', the first novel by Virginia Woolf from erasures.wavepoetry.com. It's a useful website with a number of interesting texts (and poems derived from them),...