• A Personal Poem

    Have you ever given it a thought,
    as you tread miles of footpaths,
    how tender you are,
    that the cruel sun of this city... more »

  • Cold War

    Yellow flowers-loving girl,
    how long will you fear the girl inside you;
    tell me, how long will you fight yourself?... more »

  • Dedication

    I grew
    Taller than my father
    And my mother won.... more »

  • Ghazal

    Hands, picking cotton - how I love those hands
    A perfect metaphor for the love of the land.
    They had battled with stormy seas, all night long,
    When, defeated, those strange folk, reached the land.... more »

  • Ghazal (2)

    This city does not desire a revolution any more
    The mirror we found, but we haven't the stone any more
    At such a time have my comrades found their crosses!
    Those who remain have no heads on their shoulders any more... more »

  • Ghazal (3)

    Hidden inside me lives this - delicate girl
    Strange aspects, strange passions she has, this girl.
    I an tell you why my hands bleed so
    Bare hands chiselled her from stone, this girl.... more »

  • Ghazal (4)

    All their lives long their marriages were blest with prayer
    But they crushed their own glass bangles, to drink
    I hearEnough poison there is of traditions to last us a life time
    From sorrows they gave us knotted inside our veils.... more »

  • Ghazal (5)

    The bitter taste of hunger on cold lips
    Blood-spitting, cracked, dry, yellow lips.
    Broken bangle, icy girl, rebellious age
    Green body, stony eyes, and blue lips.... more »

  • Ghazal (6)

    Why do girls follow the destinies of their mothers?
    Why are their bodies deserts, their eyes the ocean deep?
    Why do women keep their jewels locked in trunks
    To whom they wil bequeath their legacy of grief?... more »

  • Ghazal (7)

    Come the rains this year, in every flower bed fireflies shall be planned
    The tears of the widows of peasants shall be planted.
    How long will the havelis of the landlords bleed the peasants?
    How long will rosy cheeks in their foundations be planted?... more »

  • House Of God

    The books said:
    God lives in
    tearful eyes
    sunken graves
    broken hearts-... more »

  • Introduction

    Who am I
    Don't scratch old wounds
    Who am I
    Not what you think I am.... more »

  • Liberation

    rise and chip the mountains
    mountains of deed traditions... more »

  • Me

    She belongs to the tribe of Ego
    This ruthless girl
    And lives way beyond
    The bounds of your territory.... more »

  • Migration

    That silken girl from the tribe of Stones
    Had imprisoned herself in the towers of tradition
    In a charmed palace of self-deception she sat,
    Listening to the flowers sing an epic of loneliness.... more »

  • Poison

    Her arms grew weak and numb pulling the rope
    over the slimy parapet of the well,
    but the water never sufficed for the man's feet... more »

  • Rose & Cotton

    Gold bodies,
    the girls toiling in the fields,
    turned grey in the summer heat... more »

  • The Dance

    The silence
    now nags,
    and loneliness
    Chirrups on the rooftop... more »

  • The Daughter Of Riches

    Imprisoned in the haveli
    the stalwart's darling daughter
    crushed with fatigue
    drained by dissatisfaction... more »

  • The First Prayer Of My Elders

    From the womb of the night
    A tiny ray of Light was thus born:
    Night uncurled the lovely pink fists of Dawn
    read her palm... more »

  • To An Unfinished Man

    This last experience made it clear to me:
    despite your talents,
    despite being tall and handsome as a man,
    you're still a boy... more »

  • Words

    Words always appear small
    but one may pile them up to form a home
    that would suffice for the two of us
    Words always look scattered... more »