poems about delhi | Spinning a Yarn Of Life

The rains are here and I have been busy writing poems. Some are about my travels and some others are in collaboration with a very fine writer/poet. This is a project very close to my heart.

Meanwhile, a very good friend Health Writer, Columnist and Weight Management Consultant Kavita Devgan recommended me to be interviewed by We Are The City – India and I am stoked to be featured here .

You can read the interview HERE

Thanks Kavita nad Ashish for this opportunity.

In another news, some very precious poems from the Delhi Series found home in the August issue of prestigious Asian Signature – An international English Literary Journal. . The poems are part of ‘Contemporary Poets‘ section.

Thank you Surabhi Bhattacharjee for providing this platform to me.

Here is an excerpt from one of the poems :

“Dargah – Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia

Love and faith light up the dense tangle of streets

that lead to the dargah of mehboob –e – ilahi,

and the tomb of his beloved disciple Khusro,

garbed in rose petals, attars, offerings

and a heady whiff of spiced kebabs,

lost words float across the treetops,

arches, patios and tombs, sometimes,

quietly they nestle in an empty nest

or whirl down onto the marbled floor

in an aerial dance—like dervishes……. “

Read the rest and the other poems HERE

Two more poems are accepted in a very good magazine. I will post the link soon. Till then, keep reading and don’t forget to share your views with me. Do follow the Blog FB page for other updates. .

The fringes of the day lingered
on the rampart of Sikander Lodhi’s tomb,
moving on to the walls
that spanned out in a series of arches and columns
that stood like trees of life
supporting what remained of that glorious past.
Patches of light played hide and seek
on the buildings as the sun sought its path
among the silhouettes frozen in time.
I took the nearest path, shaded by arched trees,
the crowd was sparse, but love was everywhere—
on the rocks, behind the trees,
on the steps of the mausoleums,
over the eight-pier bridge,
in quiet corners screened by bamboos,
it even sprawled across the sloppy lawns
oblivious to the scattered graves,
or the cacophonous roosting birds.
Love doesn’t care about the mundane,
nor does the dust of the ancient bones
of dynasties that shaped Delhi.
I passed laughing children as
they teased ducks by the pond
and sat, eyes half closed against the sun,
a blade of grass between my teeth
watching the empty sky
from the shade of a blossoming Kachnar tree,
The breeze stirred the leaves,
their shadows moved,
a pair of cooing doves paused to listen
to rustling whispers
from the parapets dark birds flew like fragments
of charred paper rising from the fire,
a kite watched from the lonely turret.
Leaving the comfort of shadow play
I take the familiar path to reality,
harsh headlights, groping hands,
catcalls and swearing,
dust and fumes choking the city lungs,
the green grass merging into concrete,
the dying river
and night, now creeping across the sky
hiding the many sins of a city
more ruinous than the ruins I left behind.

This poem is part of the series of poems about Delhi that I am doing. It was first published in The Criterion – An international Journal In English’s Vol 7 . Check out the journal for literary essays, poetry, fiction etc from world over.