Arbitrary Obsessions. Cities. History. Music. Feminism. Maami-isms. Patterns. Halwa. Identities. Free Verse. The Internets.
He sits in what used to be their living room, and thinks. When she isn’t around, his memory jump-starts, and he remembers so much more. Their first dinner together. Their first shared stomach bug after a dubious golgappa. Their first kiss, their first book, their first semi-fuck, their first full-fuck, their first sunrise. They were [...]
Posted on March 10th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 16 Comments »
It occurs to her then, that when as a child, she would refuse to wash. After playing in the mud. Tiny eyes pleading with the parent. Let me smell mud on me for a while longer. And now, as her morning shower, washes away more of the lover’s smells away. She wishes her skin would [...]
Posted on March 3rd, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 4 Comments »
She thanks the stars And the Gods of phlegm. Some vows are taken, More seriously than others. So in sickness, his love, flows and pours. As if from the depths of a bottomless box of tissue. She is sure then, that love smells like Vicks, and is dispensed, In doses, like antibiotics.
Posted on February 26th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 6 Comments »
As he clears her shelf, book by book. Dust flies. Inside his nose. Tickling. He sneezes loud and sad. In his hand, her notebooks. An unfinished novel. A winter’s attempt, to chronicle their recipes. Doodles. Drawings. Threats. In his sneeze, one falls and opens to the last page. Smileys. Phone numbers. Random mnemonics. And then [...]
Posted on February 19th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 8 Comments »
Having finished her tea her stomach still grumbles. A biscuit, a wafer. A stray fry. Half an egg, and a complete, random stranger’s birthday cake. Her man and her love handles. He is kind, but indicates. Rather gently, than there is more of her than there was, a few months before. Birds get fat in [...]
Posted on February 13th, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Photographs, Poetry and Fiction | 20 Comments »
The little one’s eyes are squeezed shut. In concentration, she prays. Her mother looks at her with amusement and love. What do you want kannamma? To do well in the Maths test tomorrow? The little one shakes her head. Her gold earrings vehemently disagreeing with her. “Amma, I prayed that someone famous should die.” The [...]
Posted on February 3rd, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 17 Comments »
In the summers, she and her brother would open the refrigerator and stick their heads inside it. In the orange glow of the light inside, the smell of curd, carrots and spinach would invade her nose. While she couldn’t quite remember a time without it, it always felt new. The rules of the fridge were [...]
Posted on February 1st, 2009 by Neha Viswanathan
Filed under: Poetry and Fiction | 12 Comments »
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