A Name As Sweet by Carol D’ Souza
A duet of Old Monk and Ali Sethi
brings out the Abrahamic notes in us
Fading evening light bathes your balcony
in goodbye. Lounging, munching
something sour cream, I think—really,
prejudice is viscous. If required to wade
through it often enough, eventually
one starts to hold oneself differently
Anticipation a ball of dung on the head
that one has to roll with while it drips,
stinks and betrays. Ghazals give up on us,
and we shuffle into Punjabi rap music
Nothing makes us forget. Strident saffron bigotry
is our cross to bear in this country. Though
not equally, with most of its crushing weight
on your shoulders
All minorities are unequal, but some
minorities are more unequal than others
Ruminating, we wander, ponder
on the in-house sectarian conflicts
Shia-Sunni. Protestant-Catholic
And the Star of David—to whom
near death has now lent
a blind, blazing zeal. Having arrived,
the night sighs at these predictable
preoccupations. Side-stepping deftly,
it curls into a corner and turns in early
We sift through recent history: dirty laundry
of power and religion. The irony you sprinkle
as garnish on the undercurrent of anxiety
and paranoia felt everyday breaks my heart
as I look at you leaning on the doorframe,
looking out, swirling your fourth drink
Reassurances rush to my tongue
Their fruitless bitterness I bite down
It will not do. It will not do
Some truth is grief beyond the reach of words
Night stirs a gentle breeze. Mood shifts
The bottle is half full. We have reached
an hour of the night that has no need for words
Shehnai: Bismillah and the whole of his Kashi,
and not a single word. As I rinse the tall glasses,
I see you moving around, clearing up. Picking up
the crumbs of the evening. And again
I’m reminded of how you know, whatever
other accrued privilege there might be
your name is a chink in that armour
in this country. And many others
Carol D’Souza is a poet and translator from Bangalore. A collation of her work can be found here.
Two Poems by Aranya
Kansur
this morning, as i
heard you pluck madhyam
from Bihaag’s river
something fell into the torrent
a wasp had come to listen
beating wings exhaled
a frenzied gandhaar
the bulbuls were all off
like punctuation trying
to trip your free verse-
alaap soaring
with the persistence of dust
seducing light
i noticed a cow
watching quietly from the foliage
gentle rasik indignant
with people talking
during a concert
he stood there ruminating
morningsun warming his back
even the mynas got startled
when he looked up
to reprimand us all
with a firm blast
it was a slow
unwavering pancham
that gathered up the hills
as it sloped into the day
somehow it seeped right back
into your fingers that conclusive moo
and then the music stopped
Bhoop
Panihar Valley, June 18th ‘24
darkness is a black cat
whose liquid shadow slopes
into the valley shedding desire
like just another coat
eyes forlorn with waiting
offer up their tears tiny globes
that refract nine long years
of silence and night
he waits patiently, letting the melody
sit on the edge of an eyelash
his chest is heavy with the sound
of her leaving his lips wet
enough to kiss the song
farewell his ears prick up
at the note curling around
a sheaf of damp wheat
a shiver runs through his soul
as the tune cuts the stalks
with the sickle moon
his heart is quiet now
like a room by the frothing
sea through which the light
slants and the dust dances
a room marked by one
who no longer sits there
Aranya is a poet, currently based in Delhi, a place to which he doesn’t belong. Many years ago, his dhrupad ‘guru’ told him: Zindagi mein do cheezo mein besharam rehna chahiye – khaane mein aur gaane mein.. He took this advice to heart.
To My Friend Abhiram by Joel Jyothis Tom
How many nights have we sat?
Under that purple-night starry sky,
Upon that dew-drenched green grass,
Surrounding us the lingering delights of-
Babukka, Bach, Beethoven, Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, Bonny M,
John Denver, Johnson, Mozart, Zakir Hussain, A. R Rahman, Raveendran and Ravi Shankar,
Filling in the air.
How many nights have we sat?
With secrets on your lips,
Visions in my eyes,
And mysteries in our hearts.
To the repertoire of my melodies- I love you.
Joel Jyothis Tom, an enthusiast young writer and researcher hails from Calicut, Kerala. Currently pursuing Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from Central University of Gujarat, Gandhinagar.
Parcham Online 
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