The Jahaz Mahal in Mandu boasted of one of the most sophisticated water harvesting, treatment and distribution systems, far ahead of their times. With no groundwater nor aquifers, this hill fort town at a height of 2000 ft above sea level was entirely dependent on rain water for its sustenance. Built during the reign of…
“Neither in the sky, nor in the middle of the ocean,nor in the caves of the mountains” Doctor, doctor, don’t smile yet, you haven’t found your man.I’m more sarcastic than you any day,and cynicism is better left unsaidit’s a little early, don’t you think?I know, it’s just the two of us,although I would have preferred…
Hide and Seek My dears, once I will playWith you, of something strange at sight.Your Father doesn’t know when is that dayBut definitely, once we will play,Once, maybe, after the twilight. It’s of elders’ a cunning gameWith children, like you, with girls with frocksGame of servants and of masters, the same,Game of birds, of flowers,…
Infinite Difference “If we keep on speaking the same language together,we’re going to reproduce the same history.” Luce Irigaray Our language holds us hostage.and we are forced to speaknew truths but sometimes,the words are twisted into lieswe are told to hide. To speak louder calls attentionto the volume not the words, not themeaning, not what…
Lacustrine So many nights I hear the rain,I hear the matter cry again…I’m lonely, and my thoughts may drainTowards the dwellings lacustrine. And it’s like sleeping on wet floorboards,A wave keeps hitting me’n the back —I shudder in my sleep and reckonI did not pull the drawbridge back. An historical void is stretching,I find myself…
In the Church of Adele She sings of love’s suffering,the plaintive cries of separation, of shattered hearts, the sad, shuffling parting and regrets of ill-placed dedication, of passion soured by time, his or her dreams crushed by love’sbrutal demise. So good in fact, she packs great halls and stadiums with devotees swaying to every sound, for all at one time…
Being Late (Poem of the Month) They said you were usually lateto school. So, one day last weekI followed you, finding out why: You stood back & sighedas you watched a young duck familycrossing the road—stepping in to save their lives by watching out for cars. Then,when you appeared before the fountain in the mini-park, you noticed the orange…
HOME Home is not a country or postcode,more a state of mind, keeper of the map of my world – offering a hint of the distance between myselfand the silence out there, the way life reaches for light, and rays leaning like ladders against the skyinvest my journey with meaning. The universe never seems to…
I saw the cement walls pocked with bullet holes. The shoe left in a black clot smeared with a darker red. The blood you shed. In photos where you carry the bodies of children from a school, your expressions are stricken, but I have to pin this on the breast of your unfairer sex.
Unborn the Cry: The unborn child is crying to be born (the white owl circles, silently listening) razor thin and piercing the cry of the unborn child
Our ancestors appear beyond the horizon offering wisdom, and a reminder that the only thing permanent in the world is impermanence. All shapes and forms dismantle. All shades and colors faint. Every sound fizzles, and every touch is meant to be void at the end.
Ars Poetica: The touch of the land, strewn with blood drops, the burnt, roasted smell of the anthill of poetry.
The sky threw darts, the earth melted into the cloudburst of uncalled revolution.
