• Poetry,  Uncategorized

    Khatti

    By a dusty city road stood a wooden cabin decorated with garlands of tobacco pouches and cut-outs of Jesus Christ and Lord Shiva. Steeped in the fragrance of sweet, milky tea, it glittered with peg-sized glass cups brimming with tea. Men flock to the chai stall, like animals escape to a summer lake, for their hourly coolant and smoke. The owner sits inside, a sweaty king of this bunch of motley no-gooders who measure time and temperature in bidi puffs and slurps, while an empty future awaits them, like the relentless Kutch desert.   Note: Khatti: Oriya word that means informal conversation between people that often lasts for hours and is considered to…

  • Poetry,  Uncategorized

    Of Minarets, Dreams, and Memories

    Perched on a latticed window of a century old haveli, the pigeons fluttered about as irreverently as the milling crowd. Steeped in history, stumbling through the 21st century, the city of brick-red buildings and stone-walled minarets stands aloof. Like a proud lioness, now grown old she jealously guards her secrets. However, stay still by the tomb of Humayun and the djinns will speak to you.