-January, 2022 The dull, orange moon was hanging there, a dusty, swollen ache. The guard said, Close your phone– you said, friend, it’s just the moon. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down– what was left to say? This waning…
Comments closed-Christmas Day, 2021 i. One morning, during the plague that followed the fires that scarred the capital, you were feeding our pet rat, when word came from the town cryer: The farmers have circled the city. ii. A year and…
Comments closed-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…
Comments closed-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…
Comments closed-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.)
Comments closed-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 Amit Shah’s police have withdrawn from Delhi streets; still the…
Comments closedI 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; …
Comments closedOutside 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…
Comments closedOn 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…
Comments closed-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.
Comments closedone man cuts the distanced queue to buy a tube of toothpaste; we shake our heads, but in this heat, who has the strength to shout? Some time later, another man approaches, and says in a shaking voice: Please, I…
Comments closed-after Kabir Friends, I have seen astonishing sights: a great seer slain by invisible invaders; proud men cueing for buses, or liquor, to flee a failing capital; kings and princes kissing their master’s hidden hand while their subjects struggle to…
Comments closedThe moon is nearly full, the pyres are burning bright, the wind is clear and cool; let the air last through this night.
Comments closed(or how to ration vaccines according to preexisting wealth) We’re running low on vaccines, and Adar Poonawalla’s been clear: he says he wants ‘super profits’; why shouldn’t he have a good year? Modi Ji thought through his options; and decided…
Comments closedWhen I saw the video of pyres burning in an open field because, contrary to what one would expect based on official figures, the crematoriums were overflowing, I remembered that spring day, two years ago, when I saw you last,…
Comments closedOur Prime Minister’s clutching the shoulders of a child, and yes they’re in masks, but what happened to physical distance? I’m almost afraid to ask. She may be a long lost daughter, who lives with him safely in stealth— or…
Comments closedFar from home, lost and alone, stillness greets you as you enter the station. On the platform below, Mr. Bachchan is growling about masks and washing and keeping distance. There’s a rumble and rush, and as your train nears, a…
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