Ambushed

Poetry - Ambushed Picture 1 - Water Lilies in Dark Water Picture 2 - Exposed Roots

Collection of Essays

I recently put together two short collections of essays on Northstar and Raga. Over the years I have written my thoughts on the these organisations as they developed from an idea. These essays reflect (or betray) my own development (or regression) as a person thinking and building these institutions.

Sunrise Hymns

There is a room in my school - Sunrise Hymn. And over a few years, I have written poems on that title. Here are all of them. The image is of the sun as I saw it one early morning in Bori Wildlife Sanctuary at the foothills of Satpura Range.

Morning Skies or Blue Velvet

On a morning one day, not long ago, I went to my terrace to look at the stars before dawn. The sky was ablaze in blue.

The Day of the Teachers

We mark this day each year. The Day of the Teachers. Twice a year. Once on Guru Purnima and once again on S. Radhakrishnan's birth anniversary. We 'pay' respects to teachers on the day and then duly disregard them, put them in the their place of

The Lay of the Three

A word game and an image game. A word game of creating portmanteaus of Greek origin words suffixed with phobia. An image game of finding these phobias in imaginary tales. We live our lives in fear or in search of fear. We look for them in other people and in

I Am All

I am all. And all is me. This street in an ancient town has killed many and saved many. Don't look for order and justice and goodness. Look only for the dim yellow light.

Svabhava

I was travelling to Konya in late winter on a clear morning. The fields on the sides of the road were light brown. And far off on the horizon, a little house, barely visible. Perhaps, the house of the farmer tending to these fields.

We, The Condemned

I took the image of the semazen (in the cover) during a sublime performance in a caravanserai.

At No Place

Photo essay of a journey through forgotten towns. Pictures and words by Mohit Patel, original published on Nov 24, 2019. It takes 2 hours and 5 stories to reach the "village-at-no-place". Some of these stories are told out loud, while some play out in your mind. The words

Mythica Apocrypha

The Gentle Mother

I do not remember how this poem came to be. I had an image of a gothic veil in my mind. The image is of a dry lake somewhere in India. I took this many years ago.