-Hauz Rani, 6:24 p.m. Let’s walk out into the light, my love! Why not? There’s time before night, my love. This sky is hard to define, it’s true; both bats and birds are in flight, my love. Recall how we…
Poems about the dark times.
-Hauz Rani, 6:24 p.m. Let’s walk out into the light, my love! Why not? There’s time before night, my love. This sky is hard to define, it’s true; both bats and birds are in flight, my love. Recall how we…
These days, we’re told we must be thrilled with drones— our lives? Recorded and fulfilled with drones! to-touch-an-emu is proclaimed a meme: not for dancing; he’s just skilled with drones. Jeff Bezos loves to lower labour costs; in his dreams,…
-September, 2021 Just before the downpour, I thought of Umar Khalid, and how many days he’s spent in Tihar jail. Later, the still sky clung to us like a soggy face mask, and we heard the hard, sharp shouts of…
You are rubbing my head as Kabul falls, and again when your friend’s sister calls; bad news, bad news, it comes in twos, hold on to the ones you love.
In the midst of this summer of fires and floods, UN scientists announce the world will continue to warm for 30 years no matter what we do, and absent immediate, drastic action, this trend will intensify around the time our…
-August 15, 2021 I spent hours last night trying to write a ghazal that included this line: unbroken, Umar Khalid’s still in jail, and also this one: they aim to break your soul and will in jail. ‘School teachers’ and…
-August 15, 2021 Vaccines, free for all. How many friends died waiting? Thanks, PM Modi. Someone’s in our phones. Do you sense them listening? They can’t hack our dreams. What of our farmers? They’re still here, they never left— I…
Last night as it rained, I dreamed I was a child; my parents were both sick— I brought them tea and stew. This morning on the road, a man scowled as he weighed a shard of broken glass— he was…
Last night, far from shore, and ringed by roiling water, I sensed a gentle wind calling me towards the shallows. In the morning, I searched the papers for some sort of hidden meaning; they think they killed you, Stan Swamy,…
Just a week ago, my mother called to say my father had fallen again; they were taking things day-by-day. Life’s hard enough in the end, the way we all slip and weaken— how could they make Stan Swamy pass his…
-Delhi, June 4 I lied when I told you the worst had passed; we’d be back on the streets in June— and we’d win; and I lied when I said I’d dreamed this wave would recede by the next full…
-5-Star Hotel Edition For only 5k, we’ll give you a room, with wi-fi and vaccination— (and soon we’ll present our low budget plan: PPE and a speedy cremation.)
The day my mother calls to confess she’d woken in tears (she still misses her mother, after so many years), I am blessed to meet a six-week-old baby girl; drunk on her mother’s milk, she smiles as she sleeps sprawled…
-Delhi, May 15 १. Our PM works hard on his palace and speeches; ‘Let’s be positive.’ Vaccine centre’s closed; an old woman asks, ‘How long?’ ‘Try again at dawn.’ २. Amit Shah’s police have withdrawn from Delhi streets; still the…
I dreamed of hillsides littered with bundles of burning wood: death is all around us; there is no other way to read this. I woke to news of more bodies gathering in the Ganga: it was a kind of protest; …
Outside the emergency department doors, a woman sobs as she clings to a trembling, straight-backed man. As we pass them, everything shakes: the smoky clouds, the hospital walls— bushes, flowers, trees— the footpath under our feet. These two are holding…
On Friday, your mother’s cousin, on Sunday, a comrade’s father; today, a friend you just messaged— you wish you’d said more, and sooner. As the rest of us count and worry, afraid to answer our phones, the PM plans his…
-Delhi, May 1, 2021 This morning, you said you’d dreamt of a room full of books and children; I only remember warm air, the sound of your breath and sirens.