April 2018

Unnoticed Pulse Of Sri Lanka

The narration includes pictures of day to day struggles of strangers that I captured in Sri Lanka. Each of these moments lives within me and revisit and influence my political and academic life. The recurrent impact of these captured moments forces me

Death Before Dishonour

In this case There’s no honour in being violent No honour in unleashing feelings that refuse to stay silent There’s nothing worse than Leaving your daughter more than frightened But still Some would go beyond those limits To protect the family name

My Salad

is made with a poetic love, like breaking lines in my poem I chop into pieces the Roma tomatoes and the English cucumber with the yellow onions, all raw adding also some boiled dried Indian chickpeas with un-fried sunflower seed, sprinkling generously

The Baton

Verbal, verb-less, jabs of manifold colour crimson, gleaming gold and darkling from sisters of the cross of the familial kingdom arches of the eyebrows, with pits and crests on the turbulent waters of marital seas bobbing sisters, aunts, nephews, and nieces, and,

Bus Trip

A Monologue About A Ghost & Groundhog Day I never got around to getting a driving license, having my own car. (Pauses, as if sorry). My parents were a little too high strung to teach me. My boyfriend at the time, who always

Confluence

Waters when they evaporate, meet… at a global conference, to speak of fish dropouts, obscura of clouds, near-deaths, hydrological dynamics, monocultures, and metals: nickel, lead, chromium, at their beds. The bend is notional: water for coffee, cane, banana, paddy, mills, distilleries, fertilizer

Sound Of The Soul

I hear the sound coming from the weeping soul You reflect it-the pain and broken heart With the spreading wing of mercy and love Solacing the weeping heart…..! Yes, the wing of the heart is broken The dancing leg is in the

The Unspeakable Act

A Short Story Something is finally happening in my life. And I don’t mean like baba noticing the drawings and sketches I’ve been leaving around the house for him to see. No, baba is much too busy to pay attention to something

#DONTPRAY

“I miss those simple times” but maybe We lived through a mere interim False hope Prayed for healing rains on our dreamy heads not ashfalls among the dead. Oh “I miss those simple times” but don’t you remember? Our foundations, our hopes

A Distant Rumble

Last night it rained. I lived that storm in my senses. Felt in my bones that inevitable hush… The calm before the storm. Listened to the distant rumbling of thunder and watched distant flashes of lightning illuminate the night sky. I stepped

The Journey

In the time between Blooming and withering of a flower…. In the time between One gunshot and another…. In the time between Two explosions you hear… Children set off on perilous journeys, From darkness to darkness… The sun and the moon Armed