Press Brakes of a Naked Fan

 

A cage-less fan
that could cut the sound of random words

I wanted to put it in between us
whenever we had conversations on
the probability of elongated longing
or incomplete transitions

But a lot of times
it just waved the wetness away

Signed
A (dot)

 

First sentence of my Debut Untitled Novel

The cheap brothels, the rich rag-pickers, the intellectual lunatics, the clean-nosed bankers, the poison-spewing journalists, the intrusive housewives, the headless kings of third grade casinos, the skinny spine-less musicians, the weird beard artists, the innocent tit-suckers, the stubborn insurance executives, the wasted junkies of kashmere gate, the dismantled car-mechanics of old-delhi, the money-minded illiterate school teachers, the over-zealous con-men, the cute-faced scamsters, the off-springs of ambitious politicians, the fake historians of non-existing destroyed history, the evil NGO workers, the teenage nymphets of khan market, the mad readers of trash literature, the soggy newspaper columnists, the grounded acrobats, the enthusiasts of love, the naive fitness instructors, the juicy models from fashion streets, the psychopath poets, the uninhabited security guards… I wanted to kill them all.

 

Signed.

A(dot) 

A lost street of Paharganj, NewDelhi

I took another step
and I lost myself in a forgotten street

where walls were smeared with rusted junk and murals of cobwebs

Ahead of me was blind voices of insects
and behind me
nothing.

Signed.
A(dot)