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PoemsIndia

Single Red Rose

Even here, where I choose loneliness Une étrangère in the city of my dreams, my hourglass parts its sands for love.

By Ujwalla Bhandari
Single Red Rose

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Art as we 'consume' it has become exactly that - something to consume, something to sample. We no longer devour it. We no longer savour it. We have to...

By Saad Ahmed Shaikh
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The body as a country without a parliament

Andrea Dworkin was a radical feminist and incendiary writer whose works — Woman Hating (1974), Pornography: Men Possessing Women (1981), Intercourse (...

By Banashri
The body as a country without a parliament

St-utter

Words come throughlike tetris blockstrying to stack clean,none of thembespoke to my speech.I steer to clearwith trackpad tongueand keyboard teeth,syll...

By Saad Ahmed Shaikh
St-utter

How to fold grief so it looks like duty

how tightly to shut the fridge door, how to fold grief so it looks like duty.

By Anamika Tamuli
How to fold grief so it looks like duty

The Psychology of Choosing Seats and Bouncing Legs

Nobody has asked me a question in so long, I have forgotten that my voice exists. My legs, tired of this restlessness, trudge along with the crowd, hoping to go unnoticed.

By Bharti Bansal
The Psychology of Choosing Seats and Bouncing Legs

Papanasam, ‘the destruction of sins’

the woman in the backseat had gone back to hometown, a husband who drank and beat her face to a pulp,

By Fatima Hijas
Papanasam, ‘the destruction of sins’

The False Lover

He let me believe we were two halves. but he was whole, dangerously whole; full of himself, like a god who demands worship but never offers grace.

By Tara
The False Lover

My musallah bears the weight of my persecution

At Fajr, my hands pick at the frayed threads in tandem with my whispered prayers.At Dhuhr, it collects my cobalt blue grief in a leaking jar.

By Hina Zeinab Ashraf
My musallah bears the weight of my persecution

Ashajyoti

My kin have fled to places strange; to the warm cities of Delhi and Bangalore, and to tenements in the next street, to scrape their skies and dig their graves

By Ayaan Halder
Ashajyoti

The Lesser Hevajra Tantra

I search for your name. To petrify it in the interstices of my thought.

By Ashwin Kumar
The Lesser Hevajra Tantra

South Asian Summer

Tropical summers in South Asia are modest, conservative, hard-working, and, for most of the hours, frustrated.

By Anushri Muthusamy
South Asian Summer