-On the first anniversary of the CAA Yesterday evening, as we walked through Kotla Gaon, the clamour of a ragged wedding band mingled with the call to prayer, and for a moment, I swear, two bright sparks lit up the…
Comments closedI’d just boarded a southbound train, or was it a DTC Bus? Maybe it does not matter; I got a seat all to myself. A man sitting four seats away beckoned me to come over; he looked like he’d been…
Comments closed-for Rachita Taneja Sticks and stones may break my bones but words shall never hurt me— HOWEVER, stick figures and tweets may hurt my conceit, for I’ve lost my sense of humour.
Comments closed-for Kunal Kamra When children use kind words, that’s called a conversation; and when they argue loudly, that’s an altercation. While bullies everywhere employ intimidation, the clever must rely on wit and erudition. If a friend helps calm things down,…
Comments closedBy the time you made it past all the checkpoints and texted it was already dark. A line of tractors, trucks and tents stretched down the highway for miles, and a soft spoken man kept trying to explain, We are…
Comments closed-for farmers Yesterday morning, it still seemed impossible: broken barricades. Amit Shah paces, his boss sits in a corner, growing his white beard. Nothing stops the tide, or at dawn, the rising sun— praise those who feed us.
Comments closed-Nine months after the Delhi Riots In spite of the November cold, a cat went into heat and wailed into the night, like a sick child or a faraway ambulance. I thought of you then, and the stray you used…
Comments closed-Delhi 2020 Would you still love me, my friends, if I lost my sense of smell? Could we still touch from a distance? What if I had a dry cough? If I lost my sense of smell, would I still…
Comments closed-for Varavara Rao It settled on me just before dawn the day after I came to pay my respects— heavy, like a thick wool blanket on a not-quite cold night. It stayed until the scratch of a distant grass broom …
Comments closedThe clothes left on the line outside the flat across the street are flapping in the dirty wind; one shirt has just flown free, and someone’s firing atom bombs or guns; it’s hard to say— the autumn air tastes acrid,…
Comments closed-for Natasha Narwal I don’t smoke, but somehow I’m smoking on a cramped South Delhi terrace; I’m looking down at a wide, brown field of dry grass and scattered trash. Beyond, are trees and more trees, and gathered in upper…
Comments closed-Delhi, October 13 Smoke presses down on the 5 pm sky leaving the sun bloated and glowing, like a molten bronze medal, or a strange neon fruit. As raptors glide in high, hungry circles, crows keep watch from ragged rooflines,…
Comments closedIf you fear you might be condemned for committing atrocities, go file some FIRs and claim there’s a conspiracy; sedition or 144, incitement or simple foul play— if anyone asks for bail, just invoke the UAPA. Clichéd, yes, but also…
Comments closed-Jantar Mantar, October 2 Last week, we dreamed a feathered thing dangled high, in tangled wires— the scent of wood and petrol smoke, the violent glow of pre-dawn fires; some terrors are too large to name— some wounds, so deep,…
Comments closedWhen I hear the gentle cooing of pigeons outside my window, I think of Umar Khalid, and when I see crows massing against an approaching bird of prey, I think of Umar Khalid. I think of Umar Khalid when I…
Comments closed-for Varavara Rao It’s easy to remember the slow shuffle back, the way the ceiling fan’s slow turn makes the hair on your arms stand up, how the morning light falls with such gentleness on every green, growing thing— how…
Comments closedMaybe you’d had too much to drink, or maybe you were just dreaming— or maybe you were an I or we, or maybe it does not matter— but a pack of boys on bikes flew up and over the wide,…
Comments closedYou asked me if it might be fun to try to hold gloved hands and kiss through our new masks, but when we did, your aunt came barging in, announcing she had urgent things to ask about the state of…
Comments closed-for those who promised to sweep Big lies may fool a few of us, but not for very long; you’ll never clear a smoke-filled sky by spewing out more smog. The BJP will answer for the hatred it has sown—…
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