Today, I write to you from a faraway land I don’t know when my words will reach you, If you’ll get to read my letters or my songs. I hear rumours of men marching towards your city Men with guns and laathis and power; Power that controls us, tortures us, leaves us powerless in our…
words said by a maddened loverwho couldn’t deal with all thesadness that comes alongwith loving me your arms are sad, she says, your legs are sad, yours hips are sad. your eyes, of course.the dirt in your elbows โ yourbelly-button reeks of sadness;your sighs are full of despair.you’re made of melancholy โ a million glum things collectedto form…
NEW DELHI: She writes poetic prose, employs redolent metaphors and evokes utmost admiration for her novelistic virtues. Arundhati Roy is anything but a boring author. The 1997 Booker Prize-winner, who is equally at ease writing scathing essays, says she is a โdisciplined writerโ whose heart lies in fiction as it is a โconnective tissueโ between…