Time is out of joint -Kaushik Sunder Rajan A fragment about mourning: for those we love most, and for those whose names we cannot know. When my father died, a close friend of mine was in Palestine, attending to the dying during the 2014 bombing of Gaza. She told me…
On Loss
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Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography -Roland Barthes 1980 It is said that mourning, by its gradual labour, slowly erases pain; I could not, I cannot believe this; because for me, Time eliminates the emotion of loss (I do not weep), that is all. For the rest, everything has remained motionless….
I am the son of a sportsman, I grew up in England, Bhopal, Pataudi, Delhi and Mumbai, and I am more Indian than any Hindu or Muslim I know because I am both. I wrote this piece not to comment on the masses or the problems of communalism in India…
If I die, survive me with such sheer force that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold, from south to south lift your indelible eyes, from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth. I don’t want your laughter or your steps to waver, I don’t want…
[Kaushik’s friend Dina Omar, an anthropologist and poet, sent him a poem her father and her brother.] Sawah is a crazed wanderer tormented by love in vintage Egyptian movies starring Abdul Halem Hafez. I watch these films on repeat sometimes to remember what my mother looks like when quietly…