An old woman grabs hold of your sleeve and tags along. She wants a fifty paise coin. She says she will take you to the horseshoe shrine. You’ve seen it already. She hobbles along anyway and tightens her grip on your shirt She won’t let you go. You know how old women are. They stick […]
An Old Woman by Arun Kolatkar Read More »
I am standing for peace and non-violence. Why world is fighting fighting Why all people of world Are not following Mahatma Gandhi, I am simply not understanding. Ancient Indian Wisdom is 100% correct, I should say even 200% correct, But modern generation is neglecting – Too much going for fashion and foreign thing. Other day
The Patriot by Nissim Ezekiel Read More »
As a man approaches thirty he may take stock of himself. Not that anything important happens. – At thirty the mud will have settled: you see yourself in a mirror. Perhaps, refuse the image as yours. – Makes no difference, unless you overtake yourself. Pause for breath. Time gave you distance: you see little else.
Exile by R. Parthasarthy Read More »
In Madurai, city of temples and poets, who sang of cities and temples, every summer a river dries to a trickle in the sand, baring the sand ribs, straw and women’s hair clogging the watergates at the rusty bars under the bridges with patches of repair all over them the wet stones glistening like sleepy
A River By A. K. Ramanujan Read More »
It was hard to believe the flesh was heavy on my back. The fisherman said: Will you have her, carelessly, trailing his nets and his nerves, as though his words sanctified the purpose with which he faced himself. I saw his white bone thrash his eyes. I followed him across the sprawling sands, my mind
Hunger By Jayanta Mahapatra Read More »
Once upon a time a frog Croaked away in Bingle Bog Every night from dusk to dawn He croaked awn and awn and awn Other creatures loathed his voice, But, alas, they had no choice, And the crass cacophony Blared out from the sumac tree At whose foot the frog each night Minstrelled on till
The Frog and the Nightingale By Vikram Seth Read More »
It started as a pilgrimage Exalting minds and making all The burdens light, The second stage Explored but did not test the call. The sun beat down to match our rage. We stood it very well, I thought, Observed and put down copious notes On things the peasants sold and bought The way of serpents
Enterprise by Nissim Ezekiel Read More »
1 Again I’ve returned to this country where a minaret has been entombed. Someone soaks the wicks of clay lamps in mustard oil, each night climbs its steps to read messages scratched on planets. His fingerprints cancel bank stamps in that archive for letters with doomed addresses, each house buried or empty. Empty? Because so
The Country Without a Post Office by Agha Shahid Ali Read More »
I don’t know politics but I know the names Of those in power, and can repeat them like Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru. I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar, I speak three languages, write in Two, dream in one. Don’t write in English, they said, English is Not
An Introduction by Kamala Das Read More »
Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light, The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night. Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free, To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the
The Coromandel Fishers by Sarojini Naidu Read More »