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PoemsIndia

The Psychology of Choosing Seats and Bouncing Legs

Nobody has asked me a question in so long, I have forgotten that my voice exists. My legs, tired of this restlessness, trudge along with the crowd, hoping to go unnoticed.

By Bharti Bansal
The Psychology of Choosing Seats and Bouncing Legs

Papanasam, ‘the destruction of sins’

the woman in the backseat had gone back to hometown, a husband who drank and beat her face to a pulp,

By Fatima Hijas
Papanasam, ‘the destruction of sins’

The False Lover

He let me believe we were two halves. but he was whole, dangerously whole; full of himself, like a god who demands worship but never offers grace.

By Tara
The False Lover

My musallah bears the weight of my persecution

At Fajr, my hands pick at the frayed threads in tandem with my whispered prayers.At Dhuhr, it collects my cobalt blue grief in a leaking jar.

By Hina Zeinab Ashraf
My musallah bears the weight of my persecution

Ashajyoti

My kin have fled to places strange; to the warm cities of Delhi and Bangalore, and to tenements in the next street, to scrape their skies and dig their graves

By Ayaan Halder
Ashajyoti

The Lesser Hevajra Tantra

I search for your name. To petrify it in the interstices of my thought.

By Ashwin Kumar
The Lesser Hevajra Tantra

South Asian Summer

Tropical summers in South Asia are modest, conservative, hard-working, and, for most of the hours, frustrated.

By Anushri Muthusamy
South Asian Summer

Uppa’s home

Uppa’s home was the definition of what makes a house, home. It was my mother’s house where we as kids spent days and nights together; when being toget...

By Suhana Shajahan
Uppa’s home

Reparation to Mother - Three Poems by Vinita Agrawal

Reparation to Mother Mother, I’ve come to erase the ink of your loneliness, pooling in corners no coffee could warm. I’ve come to...

By Vinita Agrawal
Reparation to Mother - Three Poems by Vinita Agrawal

The Home I can't reach — Three Poems by Reya Raffi

On a quiet August noon, I left your warming daylight to the monsoon of the state that birthed me, here

By Reya Raffi
The Home I can't reach — Three Poems by Reya Raffi

A Sketch from a Ghost Town — Poems by Laila Brahmbhatt

A Sketch from a Ghost Town   Soldiers’ hands knead bread, milk cows in the fresh meadow beside their barracks. Across the border, a child...

By laila BRAHMBHATT
A Sketch from a Ghost Town — Poems by Laila Brahmbhatt

Bastar Art- The Patrimony of Tribal Craftsmanship

Bastar Wooden Handmade Art (reflecting local mythology, rituals and folklore in exquisite shapes and forms) Bastar, a district in the...

By Resham Sharma
Bastar Art- The Patrimony of Tribal Craftsmanship