Your Deccan Heart

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Sometimes, old streets and by lanes of a city are a memory, a joy which ring tears or a song. For a poet, the Deccan is one such place.
Carry me to your sleep, lady
Carry me,
Through the old by lanes of the old city
Through the lights that pass on empty streets
Of memory, through rusted wires of our disjoint gibberish
Carry me
Carry me to your sleep.
The stoned heat that grows into your day
The night winds of partings ─ half constructed subways
Your Deccan heart breathes in
My longing
Through the hazy, yellow, cyber highways
In smoke and ashes, bokehs in your lips
Dry dust must rust in the southern breeze
Like falling rain ─ your hair, skin
Carrying my weight within
All my joy! my tears ring
An earthen song, an upsetting morning.
The gates are closed, but the road is long,
My lost is found, and all that I found, darling
Was lost
Since the beginning
So carry me, lady,
Carry me to your sleep.


Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you too have a poem you’d like to submit, do mail us at


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