Tales of Tiny Train Stations

Traveling long distance, when the train goes on incessantly like a good monsoon rain, I feel a beauty growing inside me. A peace falls on the lands it crosses, the moving pictures outside—bioscope. Glimpses of life and lands, of which I only can know so much. This tiny little country holds so many people! You…

Mary Anne, The Snake

Don’t be mad.I’ve moved the illusion, and I thought you would be glad. Don’t be mad.Don’t be mad.There’s a serpent used to live in the heaven,who needed no trap.She came willingly, and showed me the map. I went there. Ask her name,and she’ll talk. Mary Anne,she survived all.Mary Anne, she crawled through the Eden,Mary Anne,…

For Now, I Celebrate the End.

I tend to linger on the ends rather than the beginnings.So I have been thinking about mortality.The process of death, not the physical particulars of it, but the feeling of it.When Alexander Supertramp was dying deep into the woods, surrounded by the thrashing waters that once was frozen, it killed me seeing his eyes carrying…

My Pet Dragonfly and I

My pet dragonfly and I,Was happy roaming by.We did try,To stick to one home and sky,But at nights we heard the river cry,And we had to find out why!

Our Own Western Lights

When I yet hadn’t touched you, and all your secret shames,I thought of light of the stars,that yet hadn’t reached earth. I thought of the past like one thinks of tomorrow. I thought of the midnight you,Who didn’t have to anymore.Anymore put on brave faces, and stride. Where you become as still as a water…

Of Tea Stalls without Addresses and Letters without Ends.

Meet me at the tea stall.I can’t give you the address,It doesn’t have one.It changes places whenever. I’ll wear a ginger flower in my hair,and a leaf in my heart.Wear a forest in your smile, okay? I thought of ending it.Meet me at the tea stall—and end there.Then it just kept going.We would’ve missed the…

The Solitudes in One Hundred Years of Solitude

{As I like the unimportant things in life, things that at a first glance hold no purpose, no immediate reason, I do plenty of things that serve that point. So I’ve listed all the mentions of solitude in Gabo’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. I kept reading it, and marking religiously the solitudes. Then I’ve…

Ides of Choitro

My mother became very pretty everyone keeps telling me. Her armor of a skin glowed, her rainfall of a hair glistened. And she slept at night. My mother who never erupted, not until I was born. My father liked things neat. He was a believer of cataloging memory in organized files. So the moment I…

Letter for the Longest Night

Morning came bearing good news.The olive forest wrote back,This time with an address.It’s been one hundred years, And I didn’t find any solitude. I tossed and turned through time.I made very little attempt to live.I mourned very little for me.I filled my lungs with golden despair.And that wasn’t fair.But what is? But now…Now I know…

Three Hundred and Sixty Four Days

One day I kept outside.One day for airing out the grievance. One day to bathe in the holly water.One day I’ll talk of nothing. And I’ll sail Elsewhere and make out with fairy men.I’ll gift them fallen leaves,and tell them how pretty they are. They are pretty,like ancient trees. I’ll talk of nothing. And I…