sarees, the word conjures an image of colours, bold and bright, swathes of rich fabric, motifs and intricate weave... but not all sarees are like that.…
i don’t think the “god’s own country” campaign had started when i first went to kerala. it was in the summer of ’89, my first trip to south india; first bangalore, then cochin. i had no idea what to expect, but a malayalee friend would always speak of the different green of his state. his voice would definitely reflect a funny kind of pride when he mentioned that. being from bengal, another “green” state, with poets and lyricists devoting many…
who reaches through the shredding the dreadful denuding who thrusts away the demon embedded entrenching who catches the sun and brings it to the cave tell me, girl, who who holds you when light has gone who touches you when nothing remains who sings to you when the hour breaks faith who, tell me, girl, who who will cleave you as they deceive you who will cover you as they unclothe you who will raise you as they inter you…