Mythica Apocrypha
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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
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.