Poetry
(1) our first phone was born with me,my mother always said;my first memory of distance…
I like country churchesWhile chicken play around in the porch,on the steps sit little girls,…
Faiz, what befell the fellow travelers of late last night?Where did the morning breeze halt?Where…
An overturned anda-bhurji cart of a hawker during a riot.She who had borrowed money to…
When the phone doesn’t stop ringing,I excuse myself from the meeting room;watch the rain create…
Diabetes at a Birthday PartyOn a channel, a day late in celebratingLata Mangeshkar’s birthday,plays a…
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