Suggestions

January 2023

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Mother’s Tongue

My mother’s tongue is not her rebellion She has never used it for self empowerment or polarity to speak out against humanity or to construct her identity in the ventures of prose or poetry Her tongue is not her weapon
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To the Second Book

The bedsheets had different colours with different patterns of creases that spoke of random encounters with a lost and dull civilization. There were nights spent on a lonely continent, with a slowly growing love of the unknown and the foreign, And
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Reverie

Is it 9:00 am already? Each day, at this exact hour, a treacherous beam tricks her fellow rays and breaks free into the dark confines of my room. Escaping the opaqueness of a thick brown curtain through a narrow slit.
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An Artist’s Burden

Paint the present With past radiant Preserve the glory With pen or brush Glorious, undefiled by the Proliferation of technology Of post-agrarian times…. Down the lane of memory Revisit, recapture and Resuscitate beauty Live present by celebrating past An anchor to
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Caged

I have seen you sitting in the wrinkled sack of a home Your moist, savory stories slapped shut in the folds of your earth, Pregnant, drunk, and raining. I have seen the blue-red shriek, the aboriginal music Piercing through your
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A Talk about Colour

Equity and Justice are overpowering ideas Yet everything not legitimate exists today That deserves not a space to hide and attack On exploration of the natural environment around One may come across it as a word – Environmental Racism Taking a toll
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Dying Poem

My poem is dying, a scared death in the lobes of my brain, perturbed by noises of the rapid civilisation My poem is a thought entwined with many more thoughts, unable to breathe out the right patterns of my imagination My
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Windfall

Behind a ruined cottage ghosts endure among untended trees. Imperfect fruit weighs down gnarled branches. The shadow of a child skips rope, each turn clips hard-packed clay. The sun slips lower. A hungry child her ice-blue eyes, a frenzy of curls, gathering
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Peace At All Costs

Father’s mantra ‘Peace at all costs’ Calmed our sibling quarrels Our petty squabbles soon forgotten We resumed our play with dolls and toys. ‘Peace at all costs, he said to me Standing beside mother, facing me as I tried to win an
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Nightingale’s Melody

City lights turned off, roads emptied, flash of moon glow illuminated the eyes. Stream of honey flowed in her throat, in the darkest hour, heard an irresistible nightingale’s melody. Kneeled by my wounded heart, feathers caressed sunken cheeks, was comatose for years,
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These Dark Days

With wars in the world The covid germs lingering in the air Men and women and children being shot and bombed World war three looming Cancers popping up everywhere The bills getting bigger With people starving and homeless in first world countries
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The Hug

The casually slipped arm about the waist the squeeze of the shoulder spoke volumes of the love felt but rarely displayed. A quiet glow spread from the toes upwards spreading its warmth to all the pores driving out the chill felt
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Language Matters in Mental Health

As humans, we use language to shape how we perceive the world and the people around us. We have a choice of words to describe ourselves and others. Our choice of words influences how we view mental health and well-being. Considering
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The Country of Red Mud

Seva, a city girl, was travelling to a remote school where she had volunteered to teach. Vidyamandir, situated in Laal Matir Desh (the country of red mud), functioned as a philanthropic wing of a mining company. The school was built with neat prefectures of one-storied structures consisting
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The Consolation

Look at the kites these are still flying Beneath the bright sunlight The sign of morning and dawn’s hue That is life, giving its clue Don’t get fed up, and catch every chance To listen to the rhythm of heartbeat And allow
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Lamps

People have lamps for bodies. When you’re in hurricane love you can see it, the light house, the summer rental for the soul lit up like unexpected fireworks that make a holiday. The human body is an arsonist. At any
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