Category Archives: nostalgia

aranya #10: the conference of dogs

“…The sun was still orange then” he murmured. the forest, of old, glistened through his eyes. his dappled ashen beard shimmering gently in the breeze. “This was before the world knew humility, before humans knew the meaning of violence. I … Continue reading

Posted in ananth, aranya, beauty, Could be verse, epiphany, forest, nostalgia, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, poetry, Prosepoetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

One song

There is only one song One reed The sound slithers through the windows Of the eternal flute Scouting for an opening Searching for a solitude That it will never find Heart of the fire🔥 from which time came And left … Continue reading

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aranya #6: the beginning

The evening sat on its haunches. at her feet. Her mind was baavra. never stopping. flying from this ghaat to the other. a nomad without a home. or everywhere, a home. everywhere she roamed in the forest. The evening lay … Continue reading

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I’m deeply attracted to those people who respond to a metaphor on its own terms. knead it with their minds. turn it into a flower. and pass it back to me, as if they were wielding a knife. those people … Continue reading

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Van Gogh and you

Sitting here and talking to you Is like hearing the mad monkey in the sky go cackle cackle with laughter that falls as rain, or the sky’s poetry seeing your eyes grow large with surprise like lovelorn moons jilted in … Continue reading

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Conscience passes through the secret lives of things a snake measuring time in the dark vein; uncertainty’s child seconds pass like bro ken syllables in the alchemy of the forgotten stench of touch memories finding themselves in the wire before … Continue reading

Posted in Could be verse, epiphany, Gothamisation, I want to ride my bicycle, nostalgia | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Meenakshi

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

Posted in beauty, Bombay, City, Could be verse, epiphany, Gothamisation, I Quote, It is written, Lou, nasha, night, nostalgia, picture abhi baaki hain mere dost, the apocalyptic real, why? | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment