Returning to the sea always makes one whole. As I steep one more in the same saline that has bathed me since my emergence in womb, I recall my journey…
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Prose by Pariksith Singh
Call me Roxie. I am the rock that can see. It seems I am unlike other rocks. I am the only one who can speak. But it almost appears to…
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Prose by Pariksith Singh
The library is where I was born, decades ago. I have lived here ever since. I move about among the shelves crammed with books, from thought to thought. I love…
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Prose by Pariksith Singh
Last night, Einstein came to me in a dream. He was very happy. “I have finally discovered the Unified Field Theory,” he said. “Show me, “I said, ever the skeptic.…
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Faiz Ahmed Faiz: The Neo-Classicist
Prose by Pariksith Singh
Last night, your lost memories came to me As spring steals into the wilderness As the morning breeze skims the desert gently As a patient finds solace without cause These…
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Prose by Pariksith Singh
Recently, I was invited to Pondicherry Literary Festival, held August 17-19 last month. This came as a surprise request from a well-known critic and poet, Makarand Paranjape. We had renewed…
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Sri Aurobindo, the Challenge of a Poet
Prose by Pariksith Singh
Of all the poets over the last few centuries, Sri Aurobindo presents the most unique challenge to the reader. He is not difficult with contorted meanings like Celan or surrealist…
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Prose by Pariksith Singh
Indian poetry in English is flat. There is no depth. This was my impression when I read some anthologies edited by Pritish Nandy few decades ago. This remains my impression…
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