One Word

My Amphigouri Uncle

On being a North Easterner

One Word
In June, Sanjay and I had gone to Tawang. While there, we had visited the Thukje Chueling Nunnery. Nowhere near as imposing as the four hundred year old Tawang Monastery three kilometers away, it is a small, rather neglected-looking place hewn out of mountain rocks. A few women, bald and fresh-faced, pottered about doing various chores. All around them, children of diverse ages played the

My Amphigouri Uncle
I knew his whibderswell. I chripped themand saw the syplelapatimoonfrom a bird’s gretrab whur.A bird’s gretrab whurwhen the drogera pannedand tished goutward.But his losh was his flom,his jeeb, his malibi glom.He had thawcabledhis home and I only saw himbedeen and toam his loshon the luphlytawn honking the fanganunessness of acraffelly morning.So that rewten gowwhen I greaphof oshing rowt for

RIP, Meenakshi Mukherjee
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Poetry Reading
I will read from my work on Friday, 11 September 2009 (that's today!) at 3:00 p.m. in Room No. 202, Arts Faculty, South Campus. Everyone's invited. Come and watch me play with words. :-)~