poems
POETRY / There’s no way you’ll outrun a bear
Smoother violence fills our hearts like charming splinters. The irony is I am the first of my women
POETRY / Be a tree
Be a tree Get wet in sorrow’s shower and you’ll recover. From envy’s scorching sun gather strength
POETRY / No door
His five sons/ Were killed and the books...
ESSAY / On wars and words
These words are not just some veils adorning the valour and victory of our freedom fighters; they're not just tributes but testaments to the rare occasion of the oppressed overpowering the oppressor.
ESSAY / Music and the space it creates for literature
I cannot, for the life of me, definitively describe what makes music. Growing up in a family where music of any form was not typically paid any reverence, my exposure to it was tunnelled into mainstream pop songs for the longest time.
Escapril: How a poetry writing challenge curates community
The Instagram account for Escapril posts all 30 prompts for the month ahead of time, and the poet is only required to write by taking inspiration from said prompts
Poetry, my useless weapon
As bird flocks take wing at the rattle of Sten guns
A fugitive
It was noontime when I arrived home the sun was shining bright
POETRY / Dhaka (2007-)
I was nine years of age the first time I set eyes on a Dhaka street. I received my first welcome from a group of beggars tapping on my car window.
Be a tree
Be a tree Get wet in sorrow’s shower and you’ll recover. From envy’s scorching sun gather strength
There’s no way you’ll outrun a bear
Smoother violence fills our hearts like charming splinters. The irony is I am the first of my women
No door
His five sons/ Were killed and the books...
On wars and words
These words are not just some veils adorning the valour and victory of our freedom fighters; they're not just tributes but testaments to the rare occasion of the oppressed overpowering the oppressor.
Music and the space it creates for literature
I cannot, for the life of me, definitively describe what makes music. Growing up in a family where music of any form was not typically paid any reverence, my exposure to it was tunnelled into mainstream pop songs for the longest time.
Escapril: How a poetry writing challenge curates community
The Instagram account for Escapril posts all 30 prompts for the month ahead of time, and the poet is only required to write by taking inspiration from said prompts
A fugitive
It was noontime when I arrived home the sun was shining bright
Poetry, my useless weapon
As bird flocks take wing at the rattle of Sten guns
Dhaka (2007-)
I was nine years of age the first time I set eyes on a Dhaka street. I received my first welcome from a group of beggars tapping on my car window.
Love won’t you love me
Break me into numbers and spirals, and blood and flesh make me all that I don't wish to be.