In 1979, Basu Chatterjee made Baaton Baaton Mein and unobtrusively brought to us the dating and courtship rituals of a community that was till then either caricatured or just overlooked in Hindi cinema. Nancy Perreira and Tony Braganza…
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Matriarchal manipulation in a patriarchal world is depicted unsparingly in Usha Priyamwada’s Pachpan Khambe Laal Deewarein (Now playing on Prasar Bharti). The mother resentful of her lecturer daughter’s comfortable life in her college residence because the younger daughters…
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“Start with hope..always start with hope. We went from being a shitty team to become one of the biggest dynasties in the sport and all it needed was one match to light this fire,” says Michael Jordan at…
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In 1947, my grandparents brought three children and the remains of an uprooted life from Pakistan to India in a train. One of those children was my mother. I grew up hearing a lot of stories about the…
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Three documentaries streaming right now show the ultimate culmination of the Bois Locker Room culture. And what happens when one gender is taught to mistrust its instincts of self-preservation and the other does not even learn something as…
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In Sudip Sharma’s Paatal Lok (Now streaming on Amazon. Co written by Sharma, Sagar Haveli, Hardik Mehta and Gunjit Chopra. Directed by Avinash Arun and Prosit Roy), India’s disowned inhabit the headlines we turn away from. A young…
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Today, I fell in love with a Pashto song. I imagined the writer, a handsome man, his features Afghan like I see on TV; to me they all look like poets. Thinking up beautiful lines. in the mountains, in the pleasant bitter coldness, of Waziristan. Now terroristan if we’re to believe the Americans. […]
A day that passed like every other day; But something seemed to be missing.. The voice unheard ever so far; Came to my hearing… *** I listened, I nodded, I spoke to the voice; I still knew not what it was saying… I moved around frayed and failed; Not knowing why I was gloomy… […]
The story writes itself. The verse recites itself. But the words linger on, long after the book is laid to rest on the shelf.
Dead hearts, still, a-pounding; A silence so resounding, Melodies of discord abound, Where skies, high, below the ground From shoal, depths, begin descent, In summers of our discontent, They dodge, deaf, deflections, A mirror of reflections A simple, sound, complexity, A nimbly- knit perplexity, A sin, sacred, sacrosanct Ingratitude so duly thanked, This light, […]
Living life in the mass lane, Churchgate local fast train. Travel the western line, commute takes time Music for the journey, Rap MC’s, verses sublime Local moves from station to station, as folks get on and off, to their final destination. *** Train speeds by track side ghetto projects And retail establishments, house material objects […]
The week begins and a poem beckons the overcast clouds deliver the words at the door and now they tumble all over asking to be strung together chiding them does not help call them names, tell them they are worthless, no one publishes poetry any more and if they do, they don’t pay you for […]
I remember I wrote my first poem at the age of seven. It was ‘ Ek je chilo bador, Se kheto sudhu gajor (Once there was a monkey, who ate only carrots)’. My parents had a hearty laugh about it. My father, then told me that Gurudev’s first poem was ‘Jol Pore, Pata Nore’ (It […]
Whatever it is that creates.. makes those grand gestures of flamboyant sunsets and a never before..never again sunrise *** star pepper moon ballet perfectly arched astutely timed rainbows *** and small gestures that we almost miss raindrops on lotus leaves like well picked pearls on an open palm reflecting light colour all of life everything […]
Loneliness spurts forth, Spilling over the brim Discontent bubbling underneath the surface. Hazy lines merging – cracked lines creeping closer. Quiet, its that calm now, Before the beginning of the battle – shamefacedly lost. Loneliness spurts forth In a room dancing with people… Heads flitting by, Limbs flailing past, Conversation thick – loneliness spurts forth. […]
The roots they say must be pulled out for dreams to stop blooming and die but what if the root is a dream? How do you stop a dream from dreaming itself? But yes, dreams are like conversations if you don’t engage.. they die that is.. if you want them to.
In your silence I died a million deaths. So many questions and fears came rushing to my mind! Did I do too little.. or too much, Did I say too little… or too much, Did I share too little… or too much, Is it because I didn’t hold your hand, even though I wanted to… […]
I am free from the fetters and I fly…I die. I dump the body in the garbage of your beauty tricks, your anti-ageing serums, your yoga mats and rejuvenation therapies. I rise above my gaze, my unglued and free gaze. Jealous? See me fly, my hair tossing above clouds, my milk whitening the world, my […]