- #poemaday ananth aranya Atyachar beauty Bombay City Could be verse epiphany forest Gothamisation hasi to fasi hmmm hypocrisy I Quote It is written I want to ride my bicycle kaha gaye woh din Lou middle class mithya Music nasha nature night nostalgia One Bad Day poetry Prosepoetry the apocalyptic real traffic Uncategorized vignettes why?
tagsanger aranya auteur beauty birdsong black Bombay bombay streets cars chauvanism circle city cityscream creation crows cycling death detergent development dhrupad Eco ecstasy evening eyes fear fight flight forest forests frustration Ghalib grass guilt insomnia kachra Kanti uncle Krishnaa liberated life lost lou Love madmast marine drive masculinity metaphors minisha lamba mirrors music nasha night nirma nostalgia observer phallic symbol PoMo Rain rant relationships safedi ki jhankaar silence sleep soar solitude space spirit the sea three traffic Ustad voyeur water white wild worm
Category Archives: City
It really is……. Hidden somewhere in the bittersweet twang of forsaking the familiar and comforting, is a hint of pungent hope, mixed with the uncanny aftertaste of curiosity. It is difficult to catch – this apprehension that comes with leaving … Continue reading
you have to peel off religion one translucent skin after another * finding god is drawing blood the knife goes in slowly black, viscous, slimy faith oozes out and then it happens as sudden as thought or sleep … Continue reading
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music should deliver you from yourself. it should be like swiping a chord in nostalgia’s shop, and buying eternity for a moment. the earth of our very being should shake and beauty should slip into the crevice of our tired … Continue reading
Fish eyes. like a leaf. stillgreen. lithe. imploring. a misty morning caught in a gaze. watching. the secret in their eyes. I’m in the great hall. It’s the sorting . A feather falls from the ceiling and gets submerged in … Continue reading
there are words. and there are words. and there are the oiled limbs of inflection that snake through the imagination of a tumbling scape. A madman taps on the door of my mind and brings to me the universe wrapped … Continue reading