*gasp* A poem? On WaxesPoetic? "But Neiha," I hear you say, "I thought you said you wouldn't be-" Yes. I know. But exceptions prove the rule, and I was very sweetly asked to share this poem somewhere on social media more than once today, and - most importantly - it's a poem about Laylat-ul-Qadr, my … Continue reading Ghazal for Laylat-Ul-Qadr
Foreword About once a month, a group I really adore called Subcontinental Drift Boston puts on an open mic. Last (October? September?) year, I started making a regular appearance, reading my poetry at their open mics. It's become, above all, a way to engage with the South Asian community in the Greater Boston Area. Every … Continue reading Against Contrivance
I hate calling myself a poet, in the way I always struggled with calling myself an artist (I still don't like calling myself an artist). To be a "poet" or an "artist" means you have received a degree of instruction, or self-taught prowess, of a calibre that it can be disseminated. I don't think I … Continue reading Poetrygrams, privacy and setbacks
It was your last smoke. You watched the cigarette smoke dissipate into – where? You always wondered that, a toddler on your grandfather’s bed, as you tried to catch the silk of it in your hands. Rafiki-deft, you would swing between the vines of your imagined mental jungle and craft paints and cackle gleefully as … Continue reading Silk threads
At some point I need to admit to myself that there are so many articles about music I can get published before people start getting annoyed at me. I'm no music critic; I'm not even an upstart music industry/related field major - I'm just an upstart politics student whose entire conception of life is framed … Continue reading DAMN., Goddamn.
as a child i listened to The Cranberries singing anthems i could not grasp for Salvation & for Zombies, as Odes to my Family & to Saving Grace; i am 21 & my heart aches as it connects the dots a five year old in her father's car could not. i cry for the Warchild, … Continue reading A post written in poem
some cooking tips: 1. when you cook chicken (breast, thigh or fillet) make three thin nicks with a serrated knife (okay, it's more for bread than poultry but it was the only knife within reach). stuff rosemary in each pocket & smell the divinity in your kitchen. 2. most things are better crushed. take garlic, mint, … Continue reading Divining
Note: At the time that I am writing this, I have hit about 1600 words. To retain my sanity and to keep some sort of end in sight, I'm going to keep my deeper analyses limited to Hamilton and Burr (and even within those constraints I am forced to limit myself: these characters are so layered and complex I … Continue reading How Hamilton ruined my life
I've been reading a lot of Kierkegaard lately in the form of a little anthology comprising his journals and essays and seminal works; I love reading journals and letters written by my favorite thinkers because I'm that pompous ass and because it explores what is a distinct beauty in their very musing, a grace in the core of their self.
12/4/2014 - International Relations @ Northeastern University Aaj woh Kashmir hai Mehkoom-o-Majboor-o-Faqir Kal jise Ahl-e-Nazar kehte thay Iran-e-Sagheer Today is a Kashmir subordinate, obligated, beggared Which yesterday the wise called Little Iran - Allama Iqbal At first glance, South Asia since its inception may seem like a behemoth with realist tenets where there are meant … Continue reading Constructing the Molotov Cocktail: Nationalism and Kashmir (dec. 2014)