Licking at the ends 

I am in a fluffy blanket, my glasses perpetually askew, as I write this and I cannot be sure if my legs are cold. But to think of it, I am safe or well hid perhaps; except for sometimes when the windows are not shut, or the door creaks a little louder. The year hasn’t been…

To Shreya 

Dearest You , As I watch your bare spine convulse  ,  and your breath  tests if  my hands are a  good place to speak up ;   I know you’re unhappy , deeply unhappy  with whatever that happens and whatever that doesn’t .   You should let go , is what everyone  tells  you  , just…

11:30 p.m

I am afraid . Afraid of the perhaps and the casualties.  Equivocally .  And where does this fear come from ? From the bones and the blood and wherever they reside , in me , and in you . Also wherever they don’t . Strangely in me and in you.   I think I do know…

Daffodils

My scraggy little boy runs in the backyard and I watch him dance to the winds as he plucks seven untouched daffodils and throws them into the mud , right after he kisses their aroma one by one . And when I walk upto him , he picks them and suffocates them in the small…

Bestial Rituals

Dii ( दी) picks up the red alluvion in her tiny hands and smells it as if it’s life and smiling she calls for me. I come running in dirty halfpants and with the stick in my hand , I draw a circle around her just enough for her to sit and  weep . And…

Unkissed

He remembers his dream and scoots rubbing his closed hands over every stone and each of the flower that comes his way but finds her and gives whatever customary pieces or fullness of his heart he holds . But she bats her eyelashes and pushes him into an Abyss , unkissed . -A.

To the Voodoo Woman

My overlong beard itches and something bites into my skin . I struggle to stand and I trot pretending that it’s a Sunday Morning , like everyday . But when I run a little more than what I think I’ve ever run , and look at her straight , she flushes crimson , and when…

Resuscitate

You see a maid  walk clumsy , in oversized clothes , over cautious and you reason, her carrying old books with worn out covers , to every faded thing of her face . But if you could actually go And touch her and see her jump as her brow sweatens and she hides behind the…

Joyesh Thakur

Joyesh Thakur ( A Half-cured Autistic Adult ) Joyesh stirs and wakes up and his scowl joins late , as he clutches my hand and tries to hide into my saree as if he was a child . And only when I pat his back and let him breathe , he looks at me green…