lost in daydreams
those images and faces
I try to recount

Pravat Kumar Padhy is a petroleum geologist in ONGC, India. His literary works are referred in Spectrum History of Indian Literature in English, Alienation in Contemporary Indian English Poetry. His short poems, haiku and tanka have appeared in numerous publications.

The Mars Visit

My elder daughter, Smita, unveils her success in pre-final selection in the competition organized by NASA on “Red Rover goes to Mars.” In the back of my mind, poetry mingles with science, fusing a different music.

As a Geologist, I understand the evolutionary history of the planets, especially the Earth: poetically, Earth is Mars’ sister, ever smiling and charming. There lies many similarities in the evolution and morphological expressions of the stellar bodies.

The stream of flow of science swells on the table top discussion: some suggestive studies of soil samples to unveil the presence of remnants of infant of life, the possibility of finding water and the envisaged mineral wealth, etc., are drafted for the desired scientific essay for final submission. After a day long discussion, in a dream, I look back to the sky and feel walking with my daughter on the reddish surface, closely viewing the cosmic outcrops!

kite-filled sky
the birds fly to touch
the height

Pravat Kumar Padhy is a petroleum geologist in ONGC, India. His literary works are referred in Spectrum History of Indian Literature in English, Alienation in Contemporary Indian English Poetry. His short poems, haiku and tanka have appeared in numerous publications.

The Other Side

There is hardly any approach road to the other side. The tall palm trees, at a distance, give some hope of companionship. The faint steps of passersby lead to the thinly populated tribal village. The gentle aroma is in the air.

I find myself in a different world when I manage to reach over there. Free hand drawn paintings, on the dwarf mud-wall, speak with sublime kindness.

Out of gesture, someone rushes to bring a basketful of seasonal fruits for me. I enjoy the opportunity of mixing my smiles with their innocence under the great banyan tree. The sun sparkles through thick foliage sprinkling sheer happiness.

I return with feeling of warmth to store memories in my flat inside the crowded multistory tower.

evening breeze—
a bird is slowly flying
nest-ward

Pravat Kumar Padhy holds a Masters Degree and a Ph.D in Applied Geology from ISM-Dhanbad, India. His haiku and tanka have appeared in a variety of international publications and competitions.

a sparrow
flits from side to side
bright light
through a narrow opening
offers hope for the missing child

her gift
a hand-embroidered bookmark
now broken skeins …
what stories can one write
on shreds of paper 

a custard apple …
the squirrel crafts
a bowl

filigree on leaf …
what is
of what was

a white lily
the lingering fragrance
of a child’s smile

streaming sun rays …
the underside of leaves
still dark

letting the ants
cross over
the jain monk

the wind
comes uninvited
i feel her absence

the whiff
of old monk rum
in his chantings

mom's broken bangles
make a full circle
kaleidoscope

tight hug
i doubt her
fidelity

self-quarantine
I speak the language
of my dog

patio swing...
my grandson's toes
touch the moon

online Sanskrit class
cyberspace reverberates
with shlokas

meditation...
intruders trespass my
private space

vertigo
I take myself
for a spin

lockdown extension
senior citizens
in a checkmate

passing clouds
every mountain
gets a hug

old age home
every room
has a family photo

mother tongue
I look back
to see the face

festival
the smell of cardamom
on her fingers

(erasures from  Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire)  

Today I got my first paycheck and I wanted to gift my dad something really valuable. So first I thought of gifting him a watch. But then I wondered, would it be able to return all his time that he spent worrying and waiting for me to come back home?

After that I thought of gifting him a cologne. But then I again wondered, would it be anything compared to the sweat he shed all his life to give us the best of everything?

May be a photo album? But would it be able to bring back his young, adventurous days,when he was busy being a perfect father?

Then what? How could I repay him?
But could I really ever?
So finally, I went home,hugged him tight, thanked him and told him that I loved him beyond everything else.

old pictures
          I wave at the man
holding my hand

Shreya Narang
Age:- 17

dreaming
i hold out my palm
to raindrops
how ripe his art
of exalting my eyes

ancient temple
a fresco on the wall
stretching back


deep inhale
deep exhale
balloon vendor's yoga


retirement gift
the choice of 
a pair of shoes


stray dog's bark
landlord and the beggar
respond the way they know

stone buddha—
all the blows
that made him

Cattails October 2017

crown chakra
the surface begins
to open up

now
the voice
a moth in the fire

her shining red frock
till I see
the shadow

snow peaks . . . 
melting into
pine forests

dark clouds -
holding on to a
silver streak

spring drizzle -
the shadow of a
full rainbow

heavy rain . . .
colours from the past,
my canvas

clear sky -
pouring stars into
the sea

Shalini Sunkuru from India has a fascination towards literature and music.