- #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
Tag Archives: Bombay
Unfurl me then In the arithmetic of your desire| With eyes That could bleed subterranean rivers dry Eyes that narrate Fables of a breathless haste, a fumbling tizzy of hands| I have found a spot In the bustling side roads … Continue reading
and dawn looks through the French windows, ruffles my hair and slips in between the sheets knocks on the door of my breath and listens to me with an ear to my chest listens to the tangerine ring of sleep … 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
Walk down a crowded street in the thick of this city. Walk through the cobbles, the dirt, the garbage, the dambar and the grime. Look up. left. right. below. scan the tops of domes, and parapets, and sulabh shauchalays and the charred … Continue reading
It’s uncanny, almost ridiculous. The sight of a city creeping up on you like a cocked gun in the dark. Always when you’ve forgotten that familiar reek of something not quite right. Of the grime, the filth, the death, the … Continue reading