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Red
Ravan had ten heads Each one an inverted medusa, Twenty eyes watched those swaying hips, a golden bait – cross the line, cross the line, cross the line The benevolent Mother Goddess also has a black face One of the seven tongues of Agni Severed ball of blood clutched in her hands. They speak of…
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Purani Dilli at Ramzaan| A Photo Essay
Originally posted on A Date With Delhi: On any ordinary day, one peek at the majestic Jama Masjid of Old Delhi will take your breath away. It will bring to your mind a picture of a royal cavalcade proceeding slowly from the Delhi Gate of the Red Fort to the entry of the royal mosque,…
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Simple things
Small shops are charming. They are manageable. Big stores overwhelm me. I like things that are handmade, single, creative pieces. Often in these stores I find that there is a human element that is a far cry from plastic capitalism. I like the fact that I am supporting an artist, a talent and an enthusiastic…
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Marigold Threading in Sitaram Bazaar
Marigold Threading in Sitaram Bazaar. Such a beautiful post. I love marigolds. Walking back home on either side of the road there would be several of them. I used to imagine them as my welcome committee. Lemon yellow to a deep orange, the color of summer, of happiness and of worship.
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Car festival – a memory in motion
Of all the moments you could have remembered you chose the noisiest, crowded, juggernaut of them all. Had I whispered white sheets, white jasmine, white cars, white clouds, it would not have mattered. The crushing gigantic wooden wheels of the trinity got your attention. But then you loved drama and scale. I looked for…
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On my way
Airports To and fro Hustle and bustle Noise Filth Restless spirits Tired luggage Book readers iPad screens My thoughts are already inflight The din of voice Arguing, persuading, selling Little bits of self dangling Off a hook Bait and bite Wheels and wings Are you headed back or away Work or play Or in an…
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La Europa
La Europa, a set on Flickr. Krakow pictures have been added to the set.
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On Discovering Ann Townsend
I am enjoying reading poetry written by Ann Townsend. In her poem “The Coronary Garden” she describes a suicide attempt: “from the brisk whiteness a tulip unfolding from each wrist.” The entire story unfolds like a mystery novel. Often I think this is about romance but then I stop myself – maybe it isn’t… “like a…
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