Today’s choice
Previous poems
Mallika Bhaumik
In search of a tawaif’s tale (Dilli love)
This is not a frilly, mushy love letter
to a city whose allure lies in defying all labels and holding the mystery key to a man’s heart, though none has ever been able to lay an absolute claim on it,
make it; his own.
My first impression of Dilli is that of an ageless ‘tawaif’
whose charm, chaos and charisma can effortlessly incite a visitor to indulge in voyeurism.
The city; an interesting tapestry of time; woven haphazardly.
The sprawling concrete habitat has the sloganeering youth, the policymaking bureaucracy, the migrant labour, the affluent and not so affluent –
officers, clerks, artists, judges, doctors, traders, ministers, eunuchs all jostling for space, wishing to call it ‘home.’
While the metro rail track crisscrosses the landmass of the tawaif’s body,
there are tabla beats accentuating the qawwali,
smell of paranthas and kebabs wafting through the lanes and bylanes,
the grandeur of Indo Persian architecture vying for footfall alongside the cold corridors of bureaucratic power.
The real and surreal blend in the midnight hour
when history rewrites itself with the fluttering tiranga and ‘tryst with destiny.’
The faint hum of Ghalib’s ghazals leave behind a residue of unrequited love and regret across the halls and charbaghs,
the veiled faces of once beautiful begums fade away with the morning mist,
the tawaif heaves a sigh as the sky is tinged with the rays of the morning sun.
A steady stream of cars, buses, autos, with their grey fumes script the itinerary of another day of heat and dust.
Glossary
Tawaif ~ cultured female entertainer and courtesan during Mughal era known for their mastery of classical music and dance.
Qawwali ~a style of Sufi devotional music
ghazal ~ In Middle Eastern and Indian literature a lyrics poem with a fixed number of verses and a repeated rhyme scheme
Charbagh ~ four gardens in Persian and also refers to a walled garden divided in four equal quadrants
Parantha ~ a popular South Asian flat bread
Kebab ~ a type of meat preparation
Tiranga ~ The tricolour/ Indian Flag
Mallika Bhaumik was a nominee for the Pushcart Prize for Poetry in the year 2019. She is the author of three poetry books. Her latest book When time is a magic jar was published by Red River Press in February 2025, and has received encouraging reviews from Cha: An Asian Literary Journal & Scroll.in among others. She lives and writes from Kolkata, India.
Jean O’Brien
Winter soil is hard and hoar crusted,
birds peck with blunted beaks,
pushing up are the blind green pods
of what will soon be yellow daffodils,
given light and air.
Jean Atkin
We scoured the parish tip most weeks, when we were kids.
We clambered it in wellies. Ferals, we scavenged
in the debris of the adults’ lives.
Sally Festing
Life lines still arc round the base of each thumb
though the bulk of hand’s muscle mass
Joe Crocker
There was always, of course, the cold
– its freezing pretty fingerprints on our side of the pane.
Julie Sheridan
They married in a chapel of black steel
bars, tethered up their feathers to serve as
stained glass. . .
Maxine Sibihwana
here, water does not run. instead it
sits obediently in old plastic containers
Lesley Curwen
Her feet snagged in a cleverly-placed net
my sister waits for him to untangle her,
to hold her head still between thick fingers . . .
From the Archives: In Memory of Jean Cardy
Denizens Mice live in the London Tube. A train leaves and small pieces of sooty black detach themselves from the sooty black walls and forage for crumbs in the rubbish under the rails that are death to man. You can’t see their feet move. They...
Tina Cole
Mr. Pig modelling his best Sunday suit of farmyard smells,
flees from the cook’s cleaver to find himself a sow.