He stood hunched at the end of the rambling driveway of the colonial bungalow where he had been born and brought up. A tall, lumbering man with rheumy eyes, regarding the tumbledown red tiles and overgrown dusty creepers wit...
Chinar Sapling, transplanted from Kashmir.
Anu Lalli is the Principal at a Public school in Amritsar. She has grown up in Kashmir and has fond memories of the mountains...
( Uss Suraiya Bakhat ke naam, jiske paijeb ki jhankar ko main hamesha apne dil ke qareeb mehsoos kartaa hoon)
Read this in Arabic
Main taaqub karoonga tumhara
Abdiyad ki aakhri sarhad tak
Wahin jahaan khima za...
I find in poetry what is for me, a pure form of expression. Language is at the heart of our existence. It is how we understand the world. It can be our communion. Using it to create is a fund...
Hamare Ishwar Ko Tairna Nahin Aata
Hindi short-story written by
Maharaj Krishna Santoshi
Translated into English by
I believe that in life everyone should, at least, learn swimming and cycling. What the basis of this...
Read this in Devnagri
Mujhe jaana tha
Tum se duur
Aur uss se bhi pehle
Apne se duur
Iss mitti ko bachane ke liye
Ek khushboo ko maine girvi rakha
Aur girvi rakhi cheez
Kahan vaapis aati hai ?
*Arabic Script for this poem not available.
toh aaina kiska rafeeq hai
joh shakhs bhi hai saamne
toota hua sa hai
they lafz bhi,chun chun ke likhey
sard darakhton par
sarhad ki zameen par phir
Read this in Arabic
Roshni ka ab nahi hai aasra,
Bujh gya hai jaisay ab her ik diya.
Kis liyay cheekhay koy tanhaayi mai'n,
Kon day, aur day bhala kis ko sada.
Bas tumhaaray khwaab ka taawaan mai'n,
We saw the soles of the sailors feet
On the lee as the sea
Roiled donning white water caps
Atop her countless peaks
She rolled lustily, loving the hardness
The reassuring firmness of another nor’easter
We were J...
Aural memories of home Make us dance loose
Recently renovated billion year old carbon I dreamt I was African, Blood I even had an original name I was resurrected ancient Black gentility
We had mastered the stars before Abra...
for my father, D. Richard Clews, 1922-1984
An autobiographic prose poem in nineteen sections
My father is pulling me
over the ever-changing horizon,
moving from one country to the next.
Read this in Arabic
Aankh bay bas hai, khwaab hai'n gum sum,
Shab hai ghamgeen aur sahar khaamosh.
Hoo ka aalam her aik kamray mai'n,
Muddatou'n say para hai ghar khaamosh.
Khirkiyou'n per thehar gayi hai ga...
A View of Dal Lake from Pari Mahal
Chashme Saahibi spring inside the shrine of Saint poetess Rupa Bhawani of Kashmir
Achabal Garden , Anantanag, Kashmir
Near Dooru Shahabad , Kashmir Valley
Chinar leaves i...
Shabir Santosh is Kashmiri by origin. Walking in the footsteps of his illustrious father G.R.Santosh, he completed graduation in painting from College of Art, Delhi. And walking out from beneath the colossal shadow of his father, chartered his own cou...
When a friend, Minakshi asked to write on exile it took a while for me to step into the shoe of the homeless if, they had a shoe. I would not know the power of the feet that have to walk you away from the field in whic...
The world of today is characterized by a thirst for knowledge that knows no slaking. The modern world knows no boundaries of knowledge, recognizes no limitations and admits no disappointment. Impediments, hurdles and mysteries ...
He has bought a new house. It is not in Srinagar. Walls and buildings enclose the air and sunlight he imagines still falls into an open balcony; into a fully carpeted room; where steps fall soft and warm of people known and...
Said Oluadah's Father:
My son, my son!
Where are you?
Who took you away?
Oluadah! O Oluadah!
They say a white man dragged you away
and you walked on the water
and went away.
how madly I do love you but I love my heritage too the gold flecked mustard fields the soulful voice of the granthi the tractor trolleys keeling over the loud weddings, the garish colours the jutti, the paranda, the ...
She was born during that time when parents kept trying to outdo each other by picking a name for their child that no one else had. Whether it was one too many cigarettes made from the leaves of the pot plant growing in th...