If I weren’t from Bombay, I’d probably call it Mumbai. I’d probably hold more value for every time I smelled the colours of the sea. I’d never know how it is to walk out of my house to find all seven colours of the rainbow- and the pot of gold at the end of it. How people tread on hot coals to grab a few coins, only to find some on chariots flying towards it. If I … [Read more...]
It may be a Poem, a Haiku, a Ghazal, we bring you the best on Indian Review. Indian Literature and Poetry from India and the world over.
Always switch the lights off when you leave the room. What would they say about me I wonder? Long gone the happy one The lucky one The pretty one The last few years I was the sad one The moody one The crazy one Long gone, everyone. Would did say the good or the bad? Or would it be lined with scorn or pity? She lived a life of almosts Big dreams Too big for her … [Read more...]
A dash of vinegar, a touch of olive and proven spices rent the air, walking, past Park Street, is where you feel a touch of the British hangover as if, the city desperately wants to hang on to its colonial cousin. … [Read more...]
"When you need something, it runs far away. But when you are content with what you have, the world just fucks the day." Haven't you had this gut feeling when all good happens, that you are sure to get an equal "fuck up" ? Well, this starts with the Intro scene of any Indian soap, the protagonist is a lazy bum and his over-protective dad who would never let him grow up from … [Read more...]
The idiom of childhood seeps into this borrowed lexicon, like the leaky roof drawing patches on the wall smelling of another rain, smelling of grandfather's only black coat that he wore like a second skin; when it hung on the nail behind the door, he was shrunken, diminished, swallowed by loud kitchen voices, rambunctious brass and copper pots, their warm bottoms … [Read more...]