A Very Pretty Persian Ode
byA poem published circa 1790, an english translation of Ameer Khusro’s persian poem, curated from the Madras Courier archives.
A poem published circa 1790, an english translation of Ameer Khusro’s persian poem, curated from the Madras Courier archives.
We take our lessons in consumption from the television – when we can but look at a mother bird feeding its young.
Rituals are often beyond the realm of rationality. Many make the questioning, rational mind feel like a fool.
Churned out of a schooling system, we are designed to conform. Are schools making us mediocre machines?
In India, waterfalls are seldom allowed to rumble along without at least one Bollywood tune in the background.
The everyday sights of a Chennai street can tell you stories – if you have the eye for them.
The rooftop of a house could be a daily haunt, a habit of solitude, a respite from weariness and the route to escape.
In 1790, a reader sent in a poem to Madras Courier, about life, love and empire.
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.
The art of leisure is perfected at the Indian Coffee House, where you can sit for hours without having a sip of coffee.
There is something evocative about the jungle river. The Amazon, mightiest of them all, evokes romance and a spiritual awakening
To the inquiring eye, a human face is an abstraction, a compilation of lines, analogies and emotions – tempting, alluring and sweet.
A tree that watched over your home; saw siblings grow from children to adults; perhaps that held the tragedy of outliving all else.
Extinction has been a part of Nature. For each lost species, we weep for their passing and ignore our own.
Sometimes, we know of a person through their memories reminisced through art and things they left behind.