Media. media.

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And some coverage in the media on poetry and the city Mumbai.


I think poetry is on a silent revolution in pockets of our nation. High time! Everyday someone calls to whisper a line of rebellion. Open-mics, addas, book launches, festival hours, poetry competitions, contest deadlines, quotes, and stanzas.

Everyday someone speaks of line breaks, enjambments, lyric, cadence, a breath too near, a breath too far.

… or of ambitions of taking poetry far up, or bringing it down. Elitist thoughts clashing with popular notions ‘nĀ approaches. Some complete, some half-baked.

Should quality poetry* be preserved in hallowed altars and corridors, or should it be washed down the dirty gulleys and lanes of our city and living perimeters? When we talk of the sale of poetry books, who should the buyer be? The person near the altar or in the gulley? Should quality poetry go toĀ peopleĀ orĀ peopleĀ come to it?

Everyone has an opinion, but mind you, however intolerable those might be from porous factions, it follows lyric and cadence, and hence can be pardoned.

TruthĀ is hard, harsh. I don’t want its bitterness if not in a chant.

And then this that appearedĀ here. A byte of sorts. Disconnected from poetry, but categorized under media.


*quality poetry – only sounds likeĀ kwality walls icecream – is poetry that works.Ā I can’t define itĀ more than this. ItĀ Ā probablyĀ is a pantheon, itsĀ pillars being of beauty, sensuality, temporality, meaning, music, movement, beat, a reminder of worlds, an amnesia of existence uff, I can’t define it.

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