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Author Archives: Poetmamma
The World Before Her – A Review.
I saw Nisha Pahuja’s critically acclaimed documentary “The World before Her” on Netflix. It is about to release in India this week. It is a powerful and compelling portrait of two extreme opposite ways of life of some women in … Continue reading
Dear lord, dear nature, O being of ethereal stature Give me all that I need To live, grow and nurture Clean air to breathe Some food on my plate And a mostly sound Physiological state A cover from rain And … Continue reading
The last month of last year brought us a dark incident, which triggered a mass reaction. A reaction that questions the very core of our social and cultural being. It is not about the rape of that unknown woman. It … Continue reading
A flower in the urban wild A girl? No, it’s just a child, Dusty, dry, disheveled hair Practiced expression of despair Infant cradled in her arms Grubby palm taps the clean glass Eyes, defiant, sharp and bright Almost contradicting her … Continue reading
Rebecca. This was one of the must read books that I had missed reading during my late teens. For a good reason, I think. I can almost see myself not finishing the book at that time. That was the time … Continue reading
Very eagerly, I picked up this book, of which I had heard a lot. It was supposed to be the book to read to give you an insight into how to follow your heart and realize your dreams. It is supposed … Continue reading
Dottie came back from school all grim and thoughtful yesterday. She read a lesson in her brand new fourth grade English textbook about a girl Meera, and her younger brother Raju, called “Dividing a Mango”. The lesson is about Meera … Continue reading
Closing eyes Reminiscing visions Of journey, long Calmness, unperturbed Settled on face Of wrinkled wisdom Lips, curved Smile of knowledge Of vanity in being Joy, sorrow Failure, triumph Forgotten, almost. Existence, encompassed By the moment, definite Finally, peace.
Eyes, tight shut, Forehead wrinkles In disapproval Fingers curl, Tightened fists Gather strength Resistance, inevitable The change, perplexing, Now unbearable Then finally, A bellow of protest. Life begins.