Look It has fallen in my courtyard Chopped down My Neem tree has fallen The swing......

I’ll still remember the big amber traffic light beaming on like a wristwatch of worn out......

Our memories are crowded With Great grandmother’s jewellery Passed down the generations Great grandfather who supported......

Those Bombay Sundays My father woke up his usual ‘early.’ ‘Seize the day’, he would say.......

Household items like a mind, like some one’s corporeal self became unholy, freshly cooked food swept......

When it is not the time of year for ants to be seen How come an......

Why do you despise so much These out-of-fashion Artificial flowers In our homes With no gardens......

Dear God, this gharote, gharoteis a gift from deep within your heartto fill the bellies of......

This ovi was written by Bahinabai when she was widowed early in life. Here she addresses......

Migration, Exile…these are men’s words. Women have always been torn up like rice seedlings to be......