Abundance

Dear Readers,

It’s been a long absence from the blog. I relocated, lock, stock, and barrel, and it’s always challenging. Moving, whether to a new city or country, is hard because of the emotional burden we carry—the people we leave behind, moments, a nook that’s held us on our loneliest days and the roads we’ve walked. Places shape us, we wear their presence on our breaths. When we leave, their shadow lingers with us or perhaps we walk away shedding some of ourselves in their thickness.

I collated my thoughts on Jodhpur, where I lived for a little over a year. My tiny 200-word dedication is recorded in Shaharnama, an initiative of The Tribune newspaper. Dropping the link here for your reading.

Jodhpur’s Mellowness that Captures You Quietly

While we were packing, old memories tumbled out of albums and files and diaries. My children had a great time reading some of my old poems and essays, meticulously typed and saved in file covers. Can’t even imagine doing that anymore in the current era! I remember using my father’s old typewriter for this. But the poor thing was nearly in its last days and invariably missed many-an-alphabet. (Interestingly, I learned to type so I could write poetry whenever inspiration struck). Anyway, it’s mostly thanks to my father that my writing was safely typed and stored. Back then, I didn’t understand why he was doing it when I had my words safe in a diary. Now, decades later, that folder is a treasure. My daughter has claimed some of those poems as part of her rightful literary inheritance. The children were surprised with our old photographs and proudly announced their parents as stunners. No matter what the truth, an endorsement from your children is always special.

It felt surreal. To me, the past feels like dense air. You can’t shake that heaviness, the stickiness that doesn’t set you free. Looking at our old pictures felt unreal, yet I could recognise us in each frame—two people vastly different and unrecognisable today.

As I type this and look for em-dashes to complete my thoughts, I think of the controversy surrounding oxford commas and dashes. They’ve been my buddies and it’s sad to see their identity thwarted by the AI onslaught. Manisha Sahoo hilariously brings forth this latest predicament that has taken the writing world by storm in her poem that you may read on the following link.

ARTIFICIAL RULES

While I do not have a poem to share today, I have a flash that was part of the National Flash Flood Day 2025 and was published on 14 June. (Additional Information: This piece faced at least twelve rejections and changed several forms and word counts before making it to this place). It has an interesting title and is bold and sassy. Here’s the link for your reading.

Submission Recipe for a Woman/Wife/Mother

Finally, as I put life together in Kolkata, I need lots of uplifting and encouraging poetry; it’s challenging being in a new place, and my fourteen-year-old isn’t making it easy. The poem I’m reading today was shared by George Bilgere on the Instagram page of Poetrytown and in his newsletter here. I hope you will enjoy my reading. See you next time!