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POETRY / My scarlet incarnation

Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook

Poetry / Bombardment

What’s life if a sense of darkness/ doesn’t connect night to sunlight

Poetry / Silent screams

Let us raise our voices, let us be heard, / Justice for the dead, let their voices be stirred

Poetry / Prompts

The pavements are hotter in winter, the rain never wets the asphalt and I never tell you to do anything else other than “be”. 

Poetry / The colour of revolution is red

And along with our bodies, the rage keeps on, / we chafe and bleed and clot and steer; / we go mad and nude

Poetry / Black swan

from my blood fangs, disarrayed cold / looting my sore body / that has done so much for me, while I ached

Poetry / House of god

I wonder where God sits in that tower. I wonder whose cries are louder.

Poetry / Oak cognacs

From moon beamed mountains  To plains deltaic; In Diasporas–detached 

Creative nonfiction / Anjuman and the stories of the mango people

My father’s ancestors were Ayurvedic medicine men from a remote corner of the North Bengal. A few generations ago, one of them had cured a long-lasting ailment of the Raja of Taherpur and had received, as a reward, a large chunk of agricultural land or “joat” next to the mighty Joshoi Beel.

November 18, 2023
November 18, 2023

My scarlet incarnation

Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook

November 1, 2023
November 1, 2023

Bombardment

What’s life if a sense of darkness/ doesn’t connect night to sunlight

September 25, 2023
September 25, 2023

Silent screams

Let us raise our voices, let us be heard, / Justice for the dead, let their voices be stirred

September 21, 2023
September 21, 2023

Prompts

The pavements are hotter in winter, the rain never wets the asphalt and I never tell you to do anything else other than “be”. 

September 16, 2023
September 16, 2023

The colour of revolution is red

And along with our bodies, the rage keeps on, / we chafe and bleed and clot and steer; / we go mad and nude

August 29, 2023
August 29, 2023

Black swan

from my blood fangs, disarrayed cold / looting my sore body / that has done so much for me, while I ached

August 27, 2023
August 27, 2023

House of god

I wonder where God sits in that tower. I wonder whose cries are louder.

August 21, 2023
August 21, 2023

Oak cognacs

From moon beamed mountains  To plains deltaic; In Diasporas–detached 

August 19, 2023
August 19, 2023

Anjuman and the stories of the mango people

My father’s ancestors were Ayurvedic medicine men from a remote corner of the North Bengal. A few generations ago, one of them had cured a long-lasting ailment of the Raja of Taherpur and had received, as a reward, a large chunk of agricultural land or “joat” next to the mighty Joshoi Beel.

August 16, 2023
August 16, 2023

Diphylleia grayi

The burst of fragrant marigolds on the blanched porch of our old Calcutta home, free like sand, unbridled like the wind

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