February 18, 2010
By June Nandy
Woman Made
always the same shop of decency
from where my books and dresses are bought.
my nationality is decided by the
identity i hold between my legs.
i have no Pandora’s Box
in whose depth, i can store my fantasies.
it comes swimming to me, his battle ground;
bringing me currencies, carnal, banal.
other times, my timidity decides
how not to find [...]
October 16, 2009
To Get Myself Some Water
~Translated from Ellen Lai’s ‘Grassland’, written in Chinese
Our love toils about one period.
On the bloody and lusty grassland
You transform me into your self-pitied crippled rabbit.
When you finally discard everything you have
That is inside your permanently bulging equipment,
You turn your back
And ride towards the flat horizon
On a white horse
Whose tail is momentarily [...]
September 14, 2009
Iris and the sun
Iris thought of the sun as a stain
on the sky; it spread so keenly
when it set, perhaps the lake
was blotting paper.
Why she paid to sit in a boat,
no one knows. The oars scratched
at the surface — relentless nibs –,
disturbed the hulking dusk-yellow
ever so minutely, and nothing
was written that night.
*
Ragini to ex-lover
I am [...]
August 28, 2009
By Divya Rajan
I drive by narrow lanes called eda
in colloquial malayalam, the walls hoarded with large
posters of Mohanlal and some teenager heroine
(who won the National Award for Best Actress,
I’m told, for carrying on precariously well
as a mother of an eighteen year old, when
she herself had but known eighteen mango- textured
summers) with wisps of curls over [...]
July 29, 2009
By Lehar Zaidi
Silk or the reason for my madness
here’s the reason for my madness
-chef emeril, food network
The world is changing for me
opening up
unravelling
like the strings of a cocoon
silk
smooth silk
I had tied around myself
covered myself with
like a shell
of bees
and guzzling honey
from my soul
smooth sacred silk
of the wedding shroud
saree silk
sharara silk
wrapping around my throat
like a noose.
smooth and [...]
June 23, 2009
By Nitoo Das
Beloved,
I’m tired
and this drying body
remembers the crane-
white of your nails tonight.
The widows come in
limp droves everyday
and my ears scorch
with their words.
Today, Shanta told me
“They gave me powders
to choke my daughter.”
Her hands kept
fluttering to her head
as if to touch
dream hair.
Sometimes
at night
I see my brother’s
ghost and we
still roam and
moan with bloated
bellies and tongues painted purple [...]
June 12, 2009
ONE OF INDIA’S most beloved writers, Kamala Das, passed away after a long illness on the morning of May 31 2009. A poet and memoirist, she died at the age of 75, after a long and conflicted career.
Predictably, many of the obituaries focused on the more controversial aspects of her writing and life, particularly where [...]
March 09, 2009
Sleep wherever is most convenient for you.
Whoever and whatever is left in the morning,
take home. Be kind. All the world is yours for
the taking, long as you know that your little heart is
theirs for the breaking. Leave lipstick on their
china and on your letters. Make sure they know
that you’re a mariposa, blue as copper sulphate,
or [...]
January 29, 2008
She wanders like a flimsy ghost
in the two-hundred-year-old
university where love thrives
in large abandoned third-floor
classrooms, monkeys shag on
corridors, restless gossip piles up
like dirty dishes in the canteen,
and young women learn some
tough lessons.
November 20, 2007
Does all lust start and
end like this? Don’t get me
wrong. I loved my wolf.
I held him tethered like
a pussycat. I nursed
the rumble in his belly
with hands gentle as a burglar’s.
He lived on milk
and blood and ocean. He
had violets for his furs.
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