Fiction & Poetry

Master Shakespeare said one was liable for one’s actions, not thoughts. What about intents, you might ask? For don’t they resemble actions in being fixated on a target? But the Master…

Its cloudy Maybe the rains will come. Time stands still as I recall the furrows upon your forehead. Suddenly you smile - and the wind whistles through pine trees, as a lotus blooms in…

On a pleasant October morning in 1996 Subrat alighted from a bus on to the famous cobblestones of Oxford’s Gloucester Green bus station.  He had come for a three-month stint as a Visiting…

Resting on your skin, Mellowed, burnished and glossy Crafted in fainted blue,  A tattoo in Spanish Mariana Mario. Weary eyes and doleful gaze,  A trace of a smile on…

The tide comes to wipe the fishy smell and stale footprints off the sands on shore. Come, kids ! And see without touch the architecture of tiny crabs woven on sands. Fleet of…

Thank God, it’s the last day/ Of my stay in Kabul today/ Seven months of this hell lived/ Will haunt me for a lifetime/ Scarred by sleepless nights/ Listening to blasts &…

Do(e) Re Me Fa(r) So La Ti.... Every time Subrat thought about the cult song from The Sound of Music, he stopped short at ‘So’. “How does ‘a needle pulling thread’ explain the musical…

Deserting me alone you left …and you left, I am sinking and sinking With every passing moment In fathomless mid-ocean. No help around…day by day Hope shrinks, In…

This book of love poems is not mine Page 57 line 15 still blames me for abandoning my Desire for you in favour of unattainable love The feather marking the agony-parched Words is…

I wonder at those skilled hands/ That had sculpted these stones/ Were they as passionate in art/ As the sunrays caressing/ These erotica etched in stones… I wonder…