I saw you last Sunday, Shoulders propped against An airless window, Buttocks smashed atop A wobbly bench, Hands damp and renegade, Clutching onto a bible— The bible that always had that Uncanny air of aloofness— You appeared absorbed in The theatre of redemption Playing on the preacher’s Reddish tongue—the preacher You could not have seen […]
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Literature Beyond The Printed Page
Gone are the days when the average reader sits on a rocking chair for two whole days lost in the world of George Elliot’s chunky Middle March. Now think of a poem where flash media meets sound art to create poetic imagery so alive that the “reader” can almost touch it. Think of a novel […]
A Guide to the Postcolony
If after a hundred years of colonial quibbling, the past is fragmented beyond recognition and leaves nothing to be remembered in its purity, just stick to your guns and remember the evils done to you and your people. That’s how nations are born. Just don’t forget to forget the evils you and your people inflicted […]
The Dead Art of Being Bored
If sleep is the apogee of physical relaxation, boredom is the apogee of mental relaxation. Boredom is the dream bird that hatches the egg of experience. A rustle in the leaves drives him away. His nesting places—activities that are intimately associated with boredom—are already extinct in the city and are declining in the country as […]
Staged Discoveries
There is only one God, and it is the god called Secret, who lies in wait at every corner of time and world, pointing us to the next corner where the truth of our existence lies buried in silence. Sometimes, this God speaks from within the deep gloom of our inner world, administering the mining […]
Confessions of A Letter
Confessions of A Letter Author’s Preface “The dream that on one bright shadowless afternoon, our broken down world will be captured and transfigured in the One Book of the living and the dead…The dream that each leaf of this Book, every sentence, each and every word will bear the message of our salvation.” — Bibliophile […]
Streamside Exchange: The Dancing God
The stream side is a lonely place where the croaks of invisible frogs and the chirping of anguished birds are all the company one can almost always hope for. But I never let the solitude get to me. I simply come with my neighbor, the town crier, who thinks he wins our little debates because […]
Tracing Home
If home ever had a home, it would be in the poetic distance of the past. To stare at trees and think about home. That’s the only way I know to spend my summer evenings. Thoughts that wander off and take me to places I can no more call home and those other places (you […]
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