When Students Return — Two days ago, the man I live with and I, were standing on the side of the road, waiting for our Uber. We were in Bandra, Mumbai, and we had just emerged from the Pension Office. Most government offices are anxiety-inducing at best, and depressing at worst. …

Writing Prompt #26 — There was no light on the mountains. The bus had broken down on the way, and we, my students, two other Professors, and I had almost reached the top, very late in the evening. The Sun was with us for a great part of the evening, and then suddenly decided…

The Wind — It begins quietly Then it gathers itself up: Pianissimo Scarcely audible Its the merest breath of air: Mezzo forte, perhaps? Soft sighs, softer moans The beginning of a keen: Fortissimo, now. Rising sibilance, Muted wail before the roar: Time to crescendo. Like a crying child Gradually becoming quiet: Diminuendo ⓒ…

That’s easy. First you stay put someplace. Alone. Not lonely. Alone. Then you look around and make sure no one is watching you. If no one is, the next step becomes easier. Remove ALL your masks. One by one. Every last one of them. The tearing away may leave lacerations on your skin…some…

A Poem About Poems — A poem Is a curious entity Once it leaves the poet’s mind, or pen, It belongs to the reader And he feels free To interpret it According to his knowledge Or lack of it I have seen With resignation Sometimes, a sense of defeat And helplessness The ‘meaning’ That he assigns, To something perfectly straightforward But in his straightjacketed interpretation metamorphoses into something Completely different But…

I crossed the bridge: I told myself I shall never need it again Who knew, that the moving finger writes, And that’s the bridge it wrote I should cross On my way back, To survive? But alas, alas, I had destroyed that bridge So I wouldn’t be tempted To ever return Not knowing…

Steaming cup of tea, Dawn’s light-fingered, velvet touch At peace, inviolate. Quietness in the air Stillness on the ground, and yet The promise of noise. Cocooned and content, We rested, the world and I: Waiting to exhale. ⓒ 2023 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.

A Hairy Post: Personal Essay — Does subjugating a woman’s hair mean subjugation of the woman? Hair has always been a metaphor for concepts, ideas and theories dealing with the freedom of women. Through the annals of history I have seen and heard how a woman’s hair is equated with liberation, slavery, and/or self respect. Religions…

A Plea For Empathy — Sometimes, you are the only lifeline to someone struggling with feelings of inadequacy, and other fears. This someone waits for a word or a call from you through the day: because you are the only bright spot in her day. Yes, you have other things to do, because you are…