She had a love-hate relationship with her tears. Which really just symbolised her difficult relationship with emotions - well, any emotion that betrayed vulnerability. She did not fully comprehend tears. What purpose did it serve? Why, at their most emotional, do people leak from their eyes? It was laughable, perhaps ironically. She was proud of … Continue reading Tearless
My grandma above the stairs Was lonely. My grandma above the stairs Was once a witch, Or so they say. My grandma who had sickles to slice up Muslims, Said once there was a riot. She said they hacked Kolkata From right to left. They banged down doors And cut your throat - She said … Continue reading Moloch: The Mad
I like your skin - Like a piece of sin I cannot devour; Like another piece of meat I must forego. Your neck Is far more savoury Than that of any other beast. I like how it is darker - In the shadows, Like my thoughts must be - Guarded. By waves of your ocean-blue … Continue reading Sun-kissed
I like it here. Let's sit awhile. The grass, leaves, sky... Raindrops staining my pages, My book: Ariel And Plath. The eroded redness of my fingernails, Of my palms. The orange of my hair and Autumn. The black of my coat and mood: Too dark for photographs. The drops drench my ink, My poem. My … Continue reading Bute Park
Dey: Of all those I have met anew and again, You are the treasure of this summer. There may be others who know me better. There may be others I call home. But no one fills me quite with wonder like you. It may be your unrestrained imagination That runs free of rules or taboo. … Continue reading A Successful Experiment
When something pisses me off, I write. So, I write, what is wrong with asking questions? Irony. People who are made fun of for asking questions, make fun of others for asking questions, who again make fun of others for asking questions. Well, this is not ironic at all. In fact, it is intentional. When … Continue reading What Is Wrong With Asking Questions?
This is a story of a madwoman. It is a story that has to be read only after the reader has bid sanity and normality goodbye at the door. Do not expect the ordinary. This is a story of a patch of skin on the flesh of my thigh. It is a story of my … Continue reading A Patch of Skin