The Whore Named War
To lie closer, they folded their plicate wings,
ate blood and shit and the sweat of each other,
retched their names in history’s spittoon,
lay blear-eyed, dreamed-out, dreamless at last.
To lie closer, they folded their plicate wings,
ate blood and shit and the sweat of each other,
retched their names in history’s spittoon,
lay blear-eyed, dreamed-out, dreamless at last.
I flinched and hid myself to evade her but she spotted me, her prey. Clad in a national dress, and waving the flags of patriotism in the air she came and raped me, scratching my face with razor sharp nails. Red, blood red were her eyes burning with rage as she thundered her national song again and again. Xenophobia[Read More...]
“…most modern conflict has been grounded in the use of terror to control and silence whole populations. Those abusing power typically refuse to acknowledge their dead victims, as if they had never existed and were mere wraiths in the memories of those left behind. This denial, and the impunity of those who maintain it must be challenged if survivors are[Read More...]
Bloated stomachs and rust colored hair strolls everywhere in the countryside and city slums, obliged to perish much before their time empty, naked hungry and cold, their figures are like the edge of the world an embarkation point of hope. The tears, spilling out from their heart, a concoction of a broken mirror and a cigarette burning at both[Read More...]
To hunt crocodiles, the pond was dried.
No crocodiles were found because they can live on land too.
But all the small fish died.
Every morning,
she stands
at the murky corner of her room,
and raises her finger to the world.
Several Kashmiri shawls, a wreath of roses,
an expired passport, feathers of the bald eagle,
a Chinese mandolin, an empty wine bottle
and some antique Newari vases,
lay across her feet.
I came into this world not like the river but like a drop of water and will soon evaporate. Though, I am only a drop of water in the majestic ocean of nature, I yearn to create a vigorous ripple of freedom, in the eternity of the water. For I am a man of eternal freedom, and suppression I[Read More...]
Father, I would have loved you more Had you felt happy When I was born As you felt when at the time of my brother … Dear father, I would have cared you more Had you shared your thoughts On life and property As you did with my brother .. But oh! Father, You commanded me like a priest You[Read More...]
Kawade was expecting his first cup of chai as he flipped through Prajavani In the small balcony adjacent to the living room though his roots took him back to Maratha lineage, His Marathi was laced with Kannada The rituals he followed were a pleasant mix of cultures his ancestors had Followed in a land that they tried to suit Kawade[Read More...]
Biswa goes to watch the movie ‘Kuchka Vikas – Unka Haath’ with his class mates
and just as the national anthem is about to start he gets an epileptic fit
and they slap him with cow leather shoes and
sprinkle cow urine on his face and
as he comes back to his senses
he utters feebly
‘Gau mata ki jai’
and the crowd scatters.