Rotten roots & other buds

When roots rot do flowers bud? Do their hearts go thud thudUntil they echo into a permanent silence? There's a particular violenceThat the politics of death make Flowers don't even breathe into life For old times' sake. When roots are what nurtured All this whileWith their equivalents of Blood, sweat and life. When flowers die...

Whiskers of Death

How do beings other than us grieve?For the ones who leave them forever? Do they feel the absence?Or do they snuggle as close as possible to the dent in the mattress...Where there used to be skin to bury their noses in? Do they miss the scritches on forehead?The warmth of snores...proof that there's still the...

Groping for words

I barely write poems anymoreMaybe you really need to beIn persistent pain for poetry.As they say.Poetry is fuelled by pain.But then I come acrossSomething miraculousLike fresh snow orUnexpected kindness and I realisePoetry needs no fuelIt has its triggers.You gotta look for those.It's actually muscle memoryThe other one's prose -Sonmarg, Kashmir '22

Edinburgh Eve

Dreaming of Christmas Eves Spent carousing across frosty roads.Mulled wine, mirth, the sizzle of a bratwurst on spikes. The soft ooze of caramel whipped into a frenzied puff pastry. A woman, half crazed in love Or blindness, who can tell? Uninhibited by the merrymaking in the air. Sitting quietly counting gingerbread houses,And wishing an avalanche...

Under The Bridge

Bursts Clouds, oranges and yellows Dusk Sunsets Cacaphony Catcalls Rustling leaves Distant barks In cahoots with survival Dragging days on flower petals Churning stomachs Running lives.

Playbox

  A friend sent some photos on a Whatsapp group today. He is back at his family home because of, you know, obvious reasons. So he ransacked his old play box and dusted the years off it. He unleashed his trapped little childhood and shared it with us And with each little beating heart of...

An evening stroll

She walked around the grey courtyard of her father's home. The ancient freckles on the cement reminded her of a dark, sinewy man. Who climbed their mango trees like a cat and threw around bundles of wheat like he was playing 'catch-catch'. At the end of each day, as he sat in a line with...

Fig 1: Human Digestive System

All said and done, it all boils down to just one thing.  Choice. Governs every nerve, every cell, every beat of the heart.  To arrive at it is just as complicated as replicating the human digestive system from a Class VII Science book.  You start with utmost concentration.  Sharp, well rounded thoughts.  Careful shading of...

Gasping for air

You know that blank space between falling asleep and waking up? That abyss where no one knows what happens? What colour is it, what it smells like, what it feels? She's been there. For a while now. Cocooned in her own web that she fashioned out of wispy little tendrils of strength. She lay there,...

Ghost

Somewhere by the side of a lake, Under the silver moonlight There lives. A speck of your laughter The sparkle in my eyes A tiny shadow of a story. That lasted. Like a dewdrop on a blade of grass.