Translation studies.



Moving on.

In your absence
the y(why?) becomes a question
of an adventure, i am not
quite sure about taking.
Mother once told me that i never
quite learnt the opposite of
urgency. Why i must wait
and not pluck raw fruits off
their branches?
You tell me that i can find comfort
in forgetting things. Even slowly.
Here out in the open, I smile
because I can pretend to be calm.
Trying to tell you how urgency
can be a being.
Hoping you’d learn the need
to teach me
the process of healing. and how to hold it
in my palm, and let it grow
taking its time to sweeten
like ripe fruits.
But before that, halt.
Teach me the meaning of full stops.
And most importantly
teach me all the reasons
you left.

Not poetry #6

In English, one of my favorite words for intimacy is kissing. The present tense of making love, it carries a double ‘S’. As if a need to be kissed(in future tense) immediately, there and then. It reminds of me of multitudes of queerness. There when I am standing, the most quiet I have ever been, hoping you’d kiss me again, hoping I have the courage to kiss you myself, knowing neither will happen. All at the same time.
In English, I am most vulnerable with the word, Oblivion. It means to be forgotten(in future tense). So I write things down minute by minute, it isn’t subtle but it makes things harder to forget. Like the first time I got kissed and felt the need to be kissed again and again and how it reminds me of the word oblivion today.
You’d think I’d have a better way to explain this
but i don’t. trek any closer
and you’d see me disappear
like you wouldn’t believe.



In pursuit
Of heaven I have found
the word, loop.
That is a repetition of an event
And again
Until I forget how your lips
Forgot the utterance of my name

makes me think singularity
Is the scariest truth. Loop: a queer
Innovation. We pick and choose
From a lineup, until
It is enough

It makes my heart stutter
And go wild. Heaven.
It is a feeling and I’ll stay here
Until it’s enough


-artwork by Ninad Sree



Somewhere you call out to the sea
as the sunlight creeps in
towards your legs.

You are the opposite of calm today. Fitting
on a hot summer day. Like today.
In between sweat and scents
you beckon to your loss.

Elsewhere I am lying filling an empty room
it is opposite the sea, perhaps in my dream.
You are here too. Looking for answers from
the sea; it is:

too vast
it’ll probably take time to respond.
I sigh
and get up
patience is not my virtue.

Artwork by sarahmaxwellart.




Delhi wasn’t home anymore. It was a collection of ruins, now in a foreign country. They all had their own new scents. What was left was scattered with men and women who still had some memory of what the city looked like.

(And how it would melt on hot summer days and shiver in murmurs when it was cold. And on the rare days when it rained, a very few did anything.)

Somewhere they sat measuring the distance to home in starlight. And on nights when the clouds covered the sky and you couldn’t see the stars, they sat sobbing.

Delhi had but two moods. And I had experienced both.

The rest is all fiction. Stories of the sultanate and the kings and queens, of love. One is never sure. If stories that vanished to memory were ever true after all…



I have been reading a lot again lately. And the most recent one is the City of Djinns by William Dalrymple, and because of my weird love hate relationship with Delhi, I cannot seem to stop reading this. If you like reading travel non fiction, this is a perfect book for you.)

From memory.



On the day of moving, we clear
old bookshelves, wondering

which ones to give away
and which ones to keep

you reach out
stroke the back of my hair

and in passing, raise suspicison
on how things got where they are

I say nothing. Experimenting with my memory
I pick up a board of puzzles

you join in. again, sitting next to me
staring at my hands. I clear the dust.

It’s old. Really old.
I wonder how it got here.

I wonder if it has all its pieces.
and if not

which ones did it give away
and which ones did it keep.


artwork by daisukerichard