Picture of sun setting at Gandipet. Taken from the top of CDFD Students' hostel. Well that was an age ago when the campus was still in Gandipet
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Hyderabad: The Recipe
And when, in the smouldering cauldron of April Musi sizzles like Ghee and the tendrils of Nastaliq caramelize issuing the aroma of Dakkani , add the oblongs of cumin till you hear the crackle of names: " Ghode ki kabar ", strew in the petals of a star anise till you hear the blooming of Azaan from Jama Masjid , and stir in the peeling stuccos of cinnamon till you hear the rustle of old book market in Abids . Now, toss in the marinated viscera of the city, the arcades Chowmahalla and the sinews of Begum Bazaar, the marrow of ancient alleys winding through Charminar. Finally, slide your hands into a casket of anima, find the longest grains of Basmati, layer carefully the folds of time: first Kakatiya , then Bahmani , followed by Qutub Shahi and on the top Asaf Jahi . And there! you have the recipe of a city.
Loneliness
On this endless street of noise where silence and blood jostle thorugh, sweat and smoke mingle, debris of lost love still lingers. I am a "lot of noise" in my head, horns blaring and myself. A "lot of smoke" in my lungs I am, sooty anger and desperation. A lonely pariah he was. A silent spec on that street of noise. His peaceful sleep is what I stole and since then have stored it in the lonely alleys of my heart.
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had lost its shoe
to probe her wetness.
Fingers hadn't
tousled her,
grabbed her
and then
let her run free.
Long had it been
since she
drifted into eyes
and had become
an irritant,
like a dream."
very unassuming.. love these surprises from my locality.