Silence Of The Wolves
Load your revolvers with our blood While we spill you back with words of truth Bare as the rising sun You are a mere coward Faceless as the night While…
Poornima Laxmeshwar
The Idea of Ethnical Cleansing
This land is a mark on the forehead A bullet yet to be drenched in red Where death comes in split peels of seconds Licking its bleached teeth tasting Yet…
The Façade
On a summer noon A crow perches (not in want of water) Gripping the bamboo bars of your fence And you yell at it until it flies away from your…
Savitri Bai Bhage
Kawade was expecting his first cup of chai as he flipped through Prajavani In the small balcony adjacent to the living room though his roots took him back to Maratha…
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