*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
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)
My heart is not so small that it cannot ache for the many; my conscience is not so limited as the number of words on my tongue; and my attentions do not only bend with the curve of my lover's spine. i am human and we have an uncanny knack for feeling with every star … Continue reading the universe is ever-expanding