“O Dastaañgo, aik panna aur kholo, aur kaho…” And we all saw, more than 1500 of us, how a relationship so fragile, so precious, so battered by an unforgettable sense of wrong, as that between Draupadi and Yudhishtira, was revived by a simple act of friendship. An eponymous long poem by Pavan K Verma, adapted […]
Am I doing the cliché, looking at a poem, and thinking of you? Did I make you smile, bitterly, Looking at this poem, and thinking of me? There are two magical words in the language of poets: Qurbat, is one. You’d know, I’m near. I had to leave, The part of me behind, The one […]
There are imaginary homes I made In a life Semi-charmed Love Was one of them; You, another.
I picked a few empty shellsalong your shore.Empty homes of your childrennow long gone;Echoing you, the breeze, andtheir conversations with the sand.I wear them around my neck,at a home away from you;Little kisses, a sunset, and loverest on my bones.
It’s March and suddenly spring. Whatever be the tint of your glasses, there are flowers to be seen everywhere. Isn’t it ironic then, that he chose to send me a whole notebook’s worth of paper covered in poetry and what should fall off from between the leaves but dried pink bougainvillea. ‘How do I not […]
I write letters to you. Letters I’ll never post, Letters I’ll read and reread and imagine your replies to. Should I have used the bird stamps? Or the blue ones with the airplanes? Would you be home when the postman got there? Where would you tear the envelope? Would you make a clean cut Or […]
The ocean, you said You smelt like the ocean My love, that was but half true. I draw seashells on my letters; I find grains of sand in my hair; My skin tastes of salt. I stood there one evening, Watching the sun disappear You took back the ground beneath my feet, With every wave, […]
You see the little crabs scuttling away – you’ve noticed how they always walk sideways? And it’s so magical the way they go gupp inside their little holes in the sand. I wonder if they’re dancing perhaps, and not walking. I like to see you in whites. Your linen pants rolled all the way up to your […]
Worn out nights, Worn ‘I love you’s discarded, like the days’s clothes Smelling of your cologne, sweat, you. Cold comfort of warmer nights; Silent companions of busy days – Your clothes, the smell of your cologne, sweat, you.
kırmızı | red | rouge | rosso | rojo | أَحْمَر | červený | κόκκινος | красный | vermelho | rød | màu đỏ | แดง | लाल | লাল | سرخ | Love is red. Red roses are for lovers. There was love. Now there are remains. Like memories, the red roses bloom.