Review by Shaily Sahay for Kitaab
Mumbai rains were at their swollen best, slashing my windows as I read through the first section of poems, Water on Ink. And these stanzas, the first and the last, from the poem by the same name,
“Shadows quarter the rain
You’re wrapped in yourself
The street flows on.
All sketches on water by ink
All words on lines by language
All these un-fairy faces are I. Me.”