one 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…
Comments closedWhen I tell you what it means to me to live in Delhi, I won’t use trending music or a dozen flashing photos approved by the Ministry of Tourism— just a few words to conjure images– that pair of young…
Comments closed-for Natasha Narwal and Devangana Kalita Maybe it’s just habit, but even all these months after they locked down the city and took away friends of your friends, sometimes you still float away at that moment when light’s fading and…
Comments closedDo you struggle against the deepening dark because you read Marx or Ambedkar? Or was it the bus driver who whispered in your ear, or the teacher who failed you, or the neighbors who forced you to say, ‘Everything is…
Comments closedDo not call us terrorists for protesting bad laws, or jail us for laughing at gods or Amit Shah. Let us love those we love; don’t tell us how to pray; and when we do equal work, give us equal…
Comments closedYou cradle the purring cat like your mother cradled you in the old photo you keep by your bed— you know the cat is not a child, and neither are you, but often in April, as the ceiling fan gently…
Comments closedUmar Khalid smiles and raises his fist on his way out of court, and an 83 year old priest is denied bail in the ‘collective interest of the community’. Meanwhile in Myanmar, protesters disappear in the night, and a striking…
Comments closedWe stood in the shadows and ate, it looked like a coronation; how we got in, I’m not sure, perhaps we snuck in the back. It could have been Jaipur or London, or maybe the Central Vista— the music was…
Comments closed– an Ashoka trustee texts Pratap Bhanu Mehta A plot of land, some recognition; the price was low: your resignation— a quid pro quo is not corruption! What profits us? That’s our best option.
Comments closedI’ve tried for years to write a perfect poem, an open window that lets in cool air— or a siren calling from the main road, reminding us to listen, reach and care. That might have worked before this darkness fell,…
Comments closed(i) You don’t know me, but in the summer of 2019, you met my friend— she couldn’t stop talking about you: a man who knew how to listen, a leader who spent more time working out of the spotlight than…
Comments closed-for Shiv Kumar Hauling carts and vendors home, weary horses stop to drink from a bucket on the road at the edge of Saidulajab. They have no time to frisk or roam, just to quench and shake and blink, as…
Comments closed-after Kabir No matter how often you sweep, dust gathers under your bed, and the TV is loud and shrill; it sounds like thunder and rust— but outside, across the main road, someone has hung out bright clothes, and the…
Comments closed-85 years after Annihilation of Caste I dreamt that I saw my mother climbing a shaky steel ladder hung from a very tall tall building— I woke as she fell; I was screaming. I dreamt this because my mother is…
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