Sweetest Before The Rot

Strawberry is a freak among fruits – a bunch of seeds shooting from a hollow sugary crystalline center to the surface, with their tightly packed stems acting as fibrous deposits of juice. It feels like a civilized pineapple at times, and it goes bad pretty quickly. I wish for a day when humans have selectively bred strawberries to be the size of a bag of chips. Anyway, here are a few lines about my war with mold, over strawberries.

In rot I chase
the strawberries
the sweetest;
silly monkey
always seeking
sugar and puzzles.

Drunk on sweetness
crazed he writes;
my foe is rot
where mold resides,
with mold I race
for juiciest prize.


Ho Gayi Peer Parvat

An attempt at translation of one of Dushyant Kumar‘s most well-recognized poems.


It must,

This glacial pain of the mountains

Must melt,

An outpour Gangetic,

Something pure and holy.


They must,

These walls, these concrete curtains

Must tremble,

Behind them we yearned

for quakes, not storms


It must,

In streets, alleys, cities and hamlets

Must march,

Every corpse, as the living

A dance fervorous.


They must,

These times

Must change,

In this influence,

My only offence.


But she must,

In our hearts

Must burn,

This fire

If not in mine, then in yours.

A Poem for Us

The cosmos laughs on us my friend, the cosmos laughs on you and me.
As we fight battles or make love through the night
Like the fools we are, we try to subdue its laugh with gunfire and passionate moans
giving meanings to its billion toothed smile.
Yet we can’t help but stop and look up, every now and then,
On this night and more, my friend, the cosmos laughs on us.