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Category Archives: Idle Thoughts
We are out of it already. We are no longer in love. We love that is certain. And that is good enough. If they touch us, they will know a fire here was once lit. We are just heat, you … Continue reading
I know you won’t think of me now. When the sun scoops vanilla clouds And there are new friends Planning exciting summer picnics And dances mid summer nights. When you can share your dreams With colourful people who enjoy Without … Continue reading
Cities change. That familiar landmark next to the empty lot doesn’t look the same anymore now that the empty lot is a seven storied building. That’s what strikes me on Instagram. My city has changed. It’s no longer familiar. While … Continue reading
Ajji was born in 1929 and so she doesn’t care that she was born on International Women’s Day. She begins her day with strong filter coffee brewed almost black with just a hint of milk. She no longer prays at the … Continue reading
This year, the fish washed ashore on International Women’s Day. Dead, inedible, and entirely an eyesore. Naturally, we blamed the fish. We realised that it was asking for it. The reports confirmed it. The fish wanted oxygen. Imagine that kind … Continue reading
The year has taught you reticence and fear. You fear revealing too much of yourself. You know judgments don’t matter to you, but they matter somewhere, elsewhere, and this year you have seen what it means when the otherwheres collide … Continue reading
“But how many lovers has this poet had?” he says.
And I sit up straighter in the chair.
The ‘he’ is the intellectual, spiritual snob in my class who likes to quote Kierkegaard. The baser instincts of lust and love are completely bourgeois, Madhav Rao likes to say.
“Kierkegaard says that we must always strive for the improvement of our soul. The positives in this poem that I see, therefore, are that I am being exposed to sexual writing. But I am a logical person. What is worse is that I am spiritual. So I really want to know. How many lovers has this–-can I say poet–-had?”
It is no surprise to me that he doesn’t get the idea of the poem, which is not about the number. Continue reading