July 2023

The dried yellowed leaf, Disowned by the rigid tree, Still dream of the green, Of the roots and seed. Brown was all around, Or to put it right it was black, But the leaf still saw green, Inside out all dreamy green.

The halfmoon cruelly glowers a chiascuro profile in the smist (cool air dulled by heavy smoke) that wafts upslope from the campfires of misguided tourists travelling to the 6th extinction while notifications ping phones across the sleepless valley.

I know     it is frightening        my darling          your body is seeping blood             like a sewer runnel               from the centre of you                  red like the trail of some wounded creature                     leading in streaks and smears                       straight back to the secret                           the

how dare they tell her what she may be born, dead or un-free how dare they tell her not to whistle or how her mouth curls sexily as she speaks of freedom from their bottled notions of beauty how dare they tell

When I say a big ego I mean a male ego I mean my ego is a male and a big one at that He knocks us down with doubt and sarcasm pros and cons and taunts an image to maintain

I am a lover of imperfections Drawn to the rugged arches of  My backyard patio And the haphazard petunias  In the rough black window boxes. I do not crave  The neatly manicured lawn With the perfect robin Pecking at the perfect

How to ‘actually’ play a mouth organ? Or a harmonica, as Sugunan Sir called it. Be it someone who could play it well. And by well, I mean really well, not just the famous ‘La vie en rose’ piece or a few

Palanimuthu Sivakami or P. Sivakami is a bureaucrat turned writer, feminist activist and political rights campaigner. She writes about Dalit lives, with a special focus on the problems encountered by Dalit women in rural Tamil Nadu. She believes Dalit women are

If you share the correct OTP, a face will be delivered to your doorstep. This face is a plateau — a cumulation of lakes darkened by screen time; miles of Instagram glide over beginnings of a body, body of a

Zareena and her childhood friend Sydney sat in a Mexican restaurant at a bar beneath dim lights, waiting for Sydney’s friend Katie to arrive. It would be Zareena’s first time meeting Katie. Sydney had told Zareena that Katie had recently broken up

my world has three bedrooms two bathrooms and one kitchen but I know of things that happen in your world too I know the days when your boss scolds you when he threatens to fire you you come storming inside slamming the

1. The sun on the face the chill of a winter morn a cup of steaming tea a book. Bliss incarnate. 2. I burn like ice I melt like dew In the heat of your touch in the fire of your love.

A couple of weeks ago, my WhatsApp buzzed, announcing a caller who addressed me with the words, “Hello, younger brother Asim.”. He told me he was Nifal and the last time he heard my voice was somewhere in 1974. I couldn’t recognise