Let our voices rise!

In collective mourning, deep to the bone we dive,  

A grief that in our silent whispers does thrive.  

Many, in shadows of 'bad faith', seek refuge,  

To deceive ourselves, from harsh truths we divert.

Beyond the mere unpleasant, into madness we're thrown,  

A political frenzy, shameless, fully grown.

Yet, let our voices sting, through the silence break,  

Against the tide of 'bad faith', our stand we take.

Complicity is a choice, in moral crimes we face,  

Our silence, a betrayal, we must not embrace.  

Let our voices rise, in love, respect, unity and strength,  

Shape our ethos, with an urgency.

For now is the time, our actions define,  

Against humanity's crimes, our voices align.  

In a collective call for justice, loud and clear,  

For the sake of humanity, let us all draw near.

Published on 8th April 2024

ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಎಂದರೆ

ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಎಂದರೆ ಭರವಸೆ,  

ಕತ್ತಲೆಯ ತುದಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೆಳಕಿನ ಕಿಡಿ,  

ಸಮತ್ವದ ಮೈತ್ರಿಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಹೃದಯದ ಬಾಗಿಲು.  

ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಎಂದರೆ ಗೌರವ,  

ಮುರಿದ ಮನಸ್ಸಿನ ಮೌನವ ಮುರಿಯುವ ಶಕ್ತಿ,  

ಪ್ರತಿಯೊಬ್ಬರ ಮಾನವೀಯತೆಗೆ ನೀಡುವ ಸಮ್ಮಾನ.  

ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಎಂದರೆ ಸಹಭಾಗಿತ್ವ,  

ಹೋರಾಟದಲ್ಲಿ ಕೈ ಜೋಡಿಸಿದ ಸಾಥಿಯ ತೊಡಕು,  

ಸಂಕಷ್ಟಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಬೆಂಬಲವಾಗಿ ನಿಲ್ಲುವ ಬಾಂಧವ್ಯ.  

ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಎಂದರೆ ನ್ಯಾಯಕ್ಕಾಗಿ ಬಯಕೆ,  

ದಮನಿತರ ಕಣ್ಣೀರಿಗೆ ನ್ಯಾಯದ ಕೊಡುಗೆ,  

ಸಮಾನತೆಯ ಬೀಜವನ್ನು ಬಿತ್ತುವ ಧ್ಯೇಯಶಕ್ತಿ.  

ನಮ್ಮ ಪ್ರೀತಿ ಸೋತರೂ ಸೊರಗದಿರಲಿ,  

ನಾವು ನಡೆದಾಡುವ ದಾರಿಯು ನ್ಯಾಯದ ಕಡೆಗೆ,  

ಹೋರಾಟದ ಬೆಂಕಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೆಳೆದು, ನಾವು ಒಗ್ಗೂಡುವೆವು.  

Published on 25th April 2024

Time-lagged solidarity

In the whispers of academia's halls,

Where echoes of freedom and speech resound,

Liberal minds stand tall,

But solidarity's plea often goes unfound.

When the cost is naught but mere words,

They champion causes, their voices loud,

Yet when action beckons, the tune absurd,

Justifications arise, a veiled shroud.

Academic freedom, their rallying cry,

Yet when challenged, they falter and wane,

Forced to confront truths that defy,

Their comfort zones, their intellectual domain.

But true solidarity knows no bounds,

It transcends the realms of privilege and fame,

It's found in actions, not just sounds,

In standing together, despite the blame.

So let us not preach from pedestals high,

Only to falter when the stakes are dire,

Let our solidarity not be a fleeting sigh,

But a steadfast flame, burning ever higher.

Published on 3rd May 2024

Inspired by many conversations I had with students, peers and friends, and mainly with my partner Aditya Narayanan.

Searching for hope

I feel sad, 

I feel anger,

I feel numb,

Yet I long to leave this feeling behind.

The numbness wraps around me,

A fog that clouds my mind.

How to keep my moral sanity,

In a world so unkind?

I fear becoming one.

With the void, with the night,

Losing touch with who I am.

How do I stay connected in a world of numbness,

How do I find myself in this haze?

I hope to break through this cold,

To plant a hopeful seed within my heart.

Published on 2nd July 2024

The Weight of Numbness

There’s a quiet voice that tells me

how unfairness hides in plain sight,

It’s everywhere, heavy and silent,

pressing down on us all the time.

They warn me: feeling nothing is giving in,

being tired is okay, but pushing back is everything.

There’s a reminder to hold on to love,

to stay connected to what makes us human,

Even when violence tries to tear us apart,

we find strength in the middle of the pain.

So I keep going, even when I’m tired,

because feeling nothing is the real danger,

I resist because in these simple truths,

I find the courage to speak, to feel, to act,

For all who’ve been lost,

and for those still fighting to stand.

Published on 22nd August 2024

Desperate Privilege

My sky is blue,
a brutal, indifferent blue
that arches over the screams of others.
The water is clear,
each ripple holding the reflection
of faces I do not know,
voices drowned before they reached me.

I am warm.
This body safe, held tight by time,
its seconds spilling like honey,
its minutes dripping with privilege.
I eat. I sleep. I laugh.
I share—
but what can be shared
when the world burns louder
than my words can reach?

Hope is a trembling light,
a matchstick in the mouth of a storm.
It flickers,
almost goes out,
then returns, stubborn.
But I—so angry, so numb—
desperately claw at it,
clutching at what it means
to keep it burning
when the sky is blue
and I am safe.

Published on 8th Jan 2025

Portals of Home

I left at twenty-one,
with calloused hands and a heart heavy with love,
leaving behind brown-patched walls
where calendars clung like memories,
where water was time—one hour, one fill, one chance—
where windows framed walls, not skies,
and gods watched over us,
their images bare, untouched by kumkuma or bloom.

Rooms spilled over with voices,
with cloth that had lived too many lives to be discarded,
with newspapers that carried stories older than the dust,
with air thick—not with space, but with belonging.

Then I walked into another world—
one of white walls,
of windows that open to green instead of concrete,
of water that does not wait for time,
of air that moves freely, untouched by sweat.
A world where space expands
but memory folds itself small,
where hoarding feels like sin
and emptiness is called elegance.

I portal back and forth,
feet in two worlds, heart caught in neither—
carrying the scent of home in my skin,
wearing the weight of shame in me.
For what is this luxury,
if not a betrayal of the hands that built me?
For what is this guilt,
if not the cost of crossing borders?

Yet still, I drink,
still, I breathe,
still, I carry home within me.

12 March 2025