Beyond the solidarity of the womb, is a silent necessity to be nurtured- A sapling needs the flare of the sun from a distance, the ritual of watering with precision and the invincible air that is an unrequitted love. The polar bear is left alone…

The church bell smothers the chirping each morning, dangling sounds hang: droplets in the air Fleeting waves of tranquility hit the badgered soul, transmitting a frequency beyond the holy reach The quiver in the throat, the silence of the eyes fade into eternity As one…

There are too many noises in the night. Crickets chirp, bloated stomachs growl, sinuses snore. the front wings are rubbed together and is amplified by wing surface there is nothing to muffle these sounds  too congested to breathe Below the belt there’s always stressed skin,…

an eye in one language is an ear in another Skyscrapers seen through binoculars transform into the cloud of sounds of people working, of machines clicking The storefront no longer a waiting space in rainy days, instead waves of footsteps drown the entrance Big black…

If you let an ant in through one end of a conch shell, it will come out at the ocean through the other, bloodied, muddy, streaks of sand in its eyebrows On this piece of silk, they wander a little, walking with more or less…

I look into the night An abyss and a revelation later, A vision dawns over the cityscape of dust The particles of the universe begin to shine through. As i wait at the bus stop that morning, Light wedges its way out of me Until…

embezzled on soul a number burns mother’s, charring it- A diamond history spoken. * (Hajar churashir ma)1084’s mother  is a Bengali novel by Mahasweta Devi.    

I hear it all the time. Bequeathed with a lone adage, it appears out of nowhere, melting the arched eyebrows of penance. Into the melting frost from leaves that let go of a part of themselves in the process, digs the arteries of balance. There…

It could be several eons sometimes Before they burst out:  ants crawling out of dead tadpole bodies Festive and yet there will be one mourning- That it was too short a time. Languages Acquired in those noteworthy moments lost, Completely, to the bigger eye of…

Love Reveals Naked truth Undressing my thoughts. Clothes slipping down into A pile on the floor ‘neath me, patiently waiting your touch. Downcast eyes flicker warmth hiding softly Fallen words, describing what you see What your heart has moved to feel within you That which…