Poetry

Masscult Elation about well-timed ascendancy has a certain piquancy. It extends to those not affiliated to it. When *M C Sher’s flowing tongue capsules his long haul his happiness is mine, tap- ping into frozen areas of my campaign. In rooting for this Gully Boy I begin to rekindle my abandoned side. *Siddhant Chaturvedi in Gully Boy, breakout...

The Work of Art It is just another day To be proud Happy with who I am With high self Esteem And the old broom and Mop at hand.   At the Doctor Trust, to care about Who I am As if to let me have My say Pad and pen the end Or give me a couple Words as a pathway.

Word… Word is Brahman It emerges from Hiranyagarbh And wanders in the ether Man’s heart vibrates He hears its rapturous melody And sways in ecstasy And is lost in the sacred silence. The other day… The predator pounces upon the word And preserves the kill A dictionary is compiled It hardly objects But, is it at ease? Lexicons continue multiplying And then, words…words…words… Words sans soul   Across...

VERTIGO The falcon soars far above us, a denizen of light and air circling different wind currents in a vastness that eludes us until he sees the smallest speck, a rabbit emerging from its hole, and he zooms down to capture it in less than a minute  -- like the vertigo of parachuting words on the pages of...