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Delhi is a Ghazal
On reading Mumbai’s Ghazal by Raef Kazi I dream of Delhi sitting in Amsterdam tonight Glamor in the lawns, silk whispers to pashmina tonight All that dust, never dulls the white gaadis and kurtas This is Delhi we are talking about tonight Tall red brick walls surrounding gated marvels Ghazals soirees and an open grill…
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Roma, the Netflix movie
If you haven’t already I insist you must watch the Netflix film Roma; written and directed by Alfonso Cuarón. It is an extraordinary story about human relationships. It moved me so immensely with its sensitive portrayal of heart entanglements. The photography / cinematography is breathtakingly beautiful. There were several scenes that I paused to just…
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Bruegel and my Son
My son age 11 took a picture of the school playground covered in snow To send to his classmate who has recently moved to South Korea He said there was no him, no longer in that playground The image reminded me of Bruegel’s winter scenes So I told him about how Bruegel made everyday drudgery…
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Rebellion and Romanticism
The night in its limitless darkness a black hole engulfing all thoughts The picture of James Dean on the table, apparently, a symbol for flagrant rebellion The clothes yet to be ironed yet to be washed scattered on the floor, that we walk on the rug eaten by many winters The arena for some poetry…
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Freedom in a Nutshell
All wrapped up in my own thoughts. Is there anything called freedom? Where you know the ground that you stand on, understand the decisions you plan on taking? I heard you saying, “we are the choices we make,” as you dragged your toe drawing patterns on the dusty floor. I suppose that you believed in…
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Thinking About the Floating Dead
The painting above is a depiction of Shakespeare’s Ophelia from Hamlet. The haunting scene describes how Ophelia, driven out of her mind when her father is murdered by her lover Hamlet, falls into a stream and drowns: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy…
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The Uterus Inheritance
I remember the Ambassador rides from Bhubaneswar to CuttackYour tussar sari draped around your shoulderAt home you would read files, make notes“It is tough being a woman Secretary of Industries”You had endometriosis A fresh incision on an arterial veinNever did you take a day off,Never did anyone find out In Raghurajpur they had an exhibition of handicraftsYou…
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Scratching at Layers of Patriarchal Sedimentation
During my research on the ghazal, I discovered that the work done by several women poets in the eighteenth and nineteenth century had been removed from written history. Women had systematically been excluded from several anthologies. In Urdu, as oral poetry started being complied and printed, the biographies penned by poet and historian Altaf Hussain…
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An Open Letter to Neenaji
Dearest Neenaji, Namaste. This is going to be a long letter. There is so much I feel about and for you that I have kept bottled up over the years, I am afraid it is going to shamelessly flow. Therefore, even before I get into what I want to say – I am going to…
