By Sri Aurobindo This puppet ego the World-Mother made, This little profiteer of Nature’s works, Her trust in his life-tenancy betrayed, Makes claim on claim, all debt to her he shirks. Each movement of our life our ego fills; Inwoven in each thread of being’s weft, When most we vaunt Read more…
Translated from Urdu to English by Rajagopal Parthsarathy Original poem by Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib To my eye the pleasures of the world are nothing but dust. Except for blood, what else flows in the guts? Turned to dust, the wings are now a spent force;they might even blow away Read more…
By Rajagopal Parthasarathy My tongue in English chains I return, after a generation, to you. I am at the end of my Dravidic tether, hunger for you unassuaged.
By Rajagopal Parthsarathy I am no longer myself as I watchthe evening blur the trafficto a pair of obese headlights. I return home, tried,my face pressed against the windowof expectation . I climb the steps to my flat, only to trip over the matOutside the door. The keygoes to sleep Read more…
By Nissim Ezekiel I have long watched myself Remotely doing what I had to do, At times ashamed but always Rationalising all I do. I have heard the endless silent dialogue Between the self-protective self And the self naked. I have seen the mask And the secret behind the mask.
By Nissim Ezekiel Remember me? I am Professor Sheth.Once I taught you geography. NowI am retired, though my health is good.My wife died some years back.By God’s grace, all my childrenAre well settled in life.One is Sales Manager,One is Bank Manager,Both have cars.Other also doing well, though not so well.Every Read more…
By Nissim Ezekiel I remember the night my motherwas stung by a scorpion. Ten hoursof steady rain had driven himto crawl beneath a sack of rice. Parting with his poison – flashof diabolic tail in the dark room –he risked the rain again. The peasants came like swarms of fliesand Read more…
By Nissim Ezekiel Friends,our dear sisteris departing for foreignin two three days,andwe are meeting todayto wish her bon voyage. You are all knowing, friends,What sweetness is in Miss Pushpa.I don’t mean only external sweetnessbut internal sweetness.Miss Pushpa is smiling and smilingeven for no reason but simply becauseshe is feeling. Miss Read more…
By Michael Madhusudhan Dutt I heard the gun, Time’s warning tongue In accents rough, loud and strong Declared the birth of day; I looked around and saw dark night Retiring at the approach of light To regions far away: The night cloud ‘neath Aurora’s eye Were melting in the half Read more…
By Michael Madhusudhan Dutt Lo! sweet was the hour – and balmy shower of rain, Revived the drooping beauties of each flowery mead and plain Like tyrants, bereft of their power, as they fly, The proud scorching sun was retiring in the sky – And tuneful zephyr warbled his heart Read more…