An Indian Summer of My Childhood

The sun would volley
Live coals on bodies
In threadbare clothes
The sun would blink
Through the meager waters
That’s left of a river
Sand dunes with scanty vegetation
Scattered all over
The small raft wouldn’t move
On thin layer of water

Where did the fish disappear?

Bedrooms shifted to isolated
Shades under trees
Leaves perspiring and choking
Under the smarting sun
The fires set ablaze to settle scores
Around the town increased
The mercury in the thermometer

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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Nine Manifestations of the Mother

Sailaputri

Trident in thy right hand...

Kamandal, an ascetic’s bowl in the left

A crescent adorning thy divine head

Daughter of Himavant, the King of Mountains

Parvathi, Hymavathi—the giver of boons

Salutations to thee, my Mother…

Brahmacarini

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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Twitter Of Nostalgia

today my heart echoes
the collective chirping of domestic sparrows
who woke us up each morning and
brought us homeward in the evenings...

hop and skip like playing hopscotch
she would enter through the door
turn her neck in all dierections
as if to greet the guests(?)
sometimes she would slip into
the room with her characteristic ease
through the window bars with bits and odds
tightly clutched in her beak to reach the
roof of our rented tiles and
we would hurry to switch off the whirring fan

for years she and her friends woke us
every morning with the tiny wings flapping
and the small voice box twittering
every evening the twitter would drive

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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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