Like any other translator or a reader, I read translations all the time, but of all......

In the dead of the night, lying on the ghats, I smell of you and your......

unseen whistleof a pressure cooker lifts shrieking parrotsoff the neighbouringmango tree. summer airscattering green....

i am singing a song that can only be bornafter losing a country. Joy Harjo when......

Finally, we moved close to Delhi after several years. There had been periodic visits to meet......

There remains an orange peel map under my collarbones,By the time we meet, it will rot......

it has become     a reconciliation  this return to the jaws of the river        waters......