By Mrinalini Harchandrai
Her sari lay wrapped
in the gauze
of her smells
the one she wore to high tea
at the Cabo Palace
a lone yardage swathe
among the sea of frocks
By Rochelle Potkar
“In all honesty we don’t read books,” says my cousin.
“We want the executive summary,” says my sister.
“We’ve no time for description. Just tell us the plot an’ move fast.”
“You know our travel sucks. Our roads are blocked.
We can’t read in the rain or under the leaking roof of a train.”