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April 4 - May 4, 2016
permanent exile.
idea of sin—
stood like an old patriarch in the middle of the city.
Phanishwar Nath Renu’s Jaloos.
thick as thieves,
selective targetting,
conscious of my identity
In More Die of Heartbreak, Saul Bellow calls such feelings ‘first heart’. My first heart remains with that failed yorker bowled by Chetan Sharma.
January 19, 1990,
‘General, I’ve lost my home, not my humanity.’
bloodlust.
Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Srikanta.
Weston La Barre’s The Ghost
Dance.
Know what how why.
It’s most dangerous/ to be filled with the silence of a corpse To not feel anything/ to tolerate everything To leave home for work/ and to return home from work
It’s most dangerous/ when our dreams die
After all, the world is still great.’
rise up to your genes at least.’
I isolated a portion of my heart.
I kept in it things I would share with no one.
Khud se kahi jo kahi, kahi kisi...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
If the soul is pure, it will go to heaven. And if it is not, how can a shloka or two salvage the soul?
It is said that the heaviest load in this universe is that of a father carrying his son’s body.
trail of dust.
We lost our appetites. Not that there was much to cook.
Even the dead were cremated in a hush, as if wailing over their bodies would result in the tribesmen gaining entry into Srinagar.
what pride is all about, and how essential it is for manhood.’
‘Death is inevitable,’ he said. ‘But there is one thought that won’t let me be at peace—what must he have thought of when he fell to the bullets, all alone?’
Tradition is like an embarrassing grandparent who needs to be fed and put back to bed in a back room.
Dear Uncle, may you find eternal peace! May you never be rendered homeless again!
some umbilical cord with memory
retain the memory of its feel.
In a Paris Review interview, holocaust survivor and acclaimed writer Primo Levi is asked, ‘Are they still strongly anti-Semitic in Poland today?’ ‘They’re not any more. For lack of material!’ he replies.
I have no home, only images.
‘The world is what it is; men who are nothing, who allow themselves to become nothing,
have no place in it.’
