Category: Poetry
-
Park Street
“Park Street performs itself. It begins, if it begins anywhere, at the Asiatic Society…”
-
Esplanade
A poem about the crossing where the old city and the new city keep almost meeting. “I have seen buses turn the corner / with the confidence of men / who have never been wrong.”
-
Jallianwala Bagh
It was Baisakhi.A festival of harvest, of hope –When fields are full,And hearts even fuller.Men in turbans,Women in bright colours,Children running with joy,At Jallianwala Bagh The air was alive with celebration.Then –The gate closed.And the Bagh, once a space of joy,Became a chamber of death.Bullets tore through the summer air.There was no sky after that,Only smoke,Only…