All Roads Lead to Ayodhya
live long in your dark alleys that do not lead the city of Lord Ram…But dark alleys will be filled with light and be ready to be lynched or burned alive.
Poetry
Read MoreAll Roads Lead to Ayodhya
On Holy Days
It attests to the disenchantment of the poet to the festivity of any holy day people celebrate with fire and food.
Maa
It attests to the loving memory of the poet's mother. She took hardships with a smile and did simple things for her children and neighbours.
Burning the Midnight Oil
It attests to the trajectory of Indian students who face stiff competition in the shrinking Indian job market.
Blue Fox
It attests to the duplicity of the men of a particular community who, after getting established, forget their past.
We are 300 Rohingya Muslims
The world labelled us ‘refugee’,
In Allah’s wide land, and sea and sky
We are pariahs,
Ways of profits for human traffickers
Columnists still relish our survival feats!
Cow Dung Collector
It attests to the irony we find in poor Khenti's copying the young girls who are exercising to lose weight and look smart to their bosses.
Waves of Heat at our Town
It attests to the systematic techniques of exploiting the oppressed, ably used by the babus of our town year after year.
A Dying Man
It attests to the certainity
of the ultimate hour that waits for everyone, be she big or small, rich or poor, lover or hater.
The Selfie
It attests to the beauty which resides within. People should nurture it, and then harmony and peace will prevail in society.