adjectiveoverobjective

mother

fucker of a night of a Fridayand I am in my bedshe’s too far gone in her blanketsnoozing with a capital Z she never took out her splinterthe thumb’s rusty, ridiculousshe said, ‘ridi-what-rudhivaadi?me fine, little pain, no fuss’ she does this every timejust never cares for selfthe closet drools like a monstershe trots like aContinue reading “mother”

White House Part-whee Palace

We dragged our abbreviated senses to the car door, ready to thread large experiences onto the short skewer of this night, eager to grill it over the gentle heat of this chill. It was A’s cousin’s wedding. Few colourful pegs of Black and White can slingshot you five years back to college days when youContinue reading “White House Part-whee Palace”

A1 things at B13

every evening, he’d come around i’d order paranthe, i’d clear the ground he’d knock with his guitar, some energy he’d row we’d put on a movie certain, less likely so he’d sit cross-legged, he’d sit in my spot beset by four pillows, set to undo the rot and one by one, the lamps would goContinue reading “A1 things at B13”

just like that for a jalebi like this

At the wedding, at the Sector 56 market, at Paharganj’s Lal Ram Chand Ji ki mashhoor dukaan since 1940: jalebi. Glittering gorgeous and hot on hotter news in the paper from the morning. You want to urgently pick one up between your cold fingers and crunch it warm between your canines. More golden than theContinue reading “just like that for a jalebi like this”

summarily,

The night fattens and so do our truths. They have been arranged to be served to me à la carte. By the card, all the cards. And, no garnishes. No dressings. Just the plain raw meat. —kaazi hove turat milau ik pal ki he talaash mein. What does it mean? S says, all guitar andContinue reading “summarily,”

Indian October

We don’t share the kind of commitment I have with my Nude lipstick yet. And why would we? You just met me when you did as a melody man. And few times after did I quake like the strings somersault under your touch. You are a person of pursuit. I am a woman of worsts.Continue reading “Indian October”

bad tuned (in)

I squint like the hostel cat I book a bike thrice The hour is too grainy Neighborhood some dull demise You won’t stop calling Your iron will is forged I call a cab to see you My purse is fucking scorched Once full of writer’s woes Quiet rum, high music, and lows The night hasContinue reading “bad tuned (in)”

Arrivals

Cities have tongues. This one got my ear so bad I moved 2000 kilometers in one single-minded, unwitting, brusque purchase of a plane ticket to find home in its hearth. I didn’t know at the time where I would make my coffee the next day or what shelf I would stack my books on. AndContinue reading “Arrivals”

(be)so(r)tted

Back in bed in the night and on the rushed Sunday after, I replay the whole evening on loop—the restless rickshaw ride, the unnerving struggle to find the right metro platform, the merciless two-minute wait for the train, the heedless texting to make the time bolt faster, the harrowing but sustaining ad-riven Spotify to cudgelContinue reading “(be)so(r)tted”

momentary mementos?

a weathered wallet and a zapped zipper packing a paling pickle of a post-it from a past now part plastic words on its paper, tiny tethers in ink cursive and cruel each one of them a stitch to a moment, a stitch to the moment the one that stretched too thin while it did bloomingContinue reading “momentary mementos?”