Delhi and other forests

Every morning, I look at the swaying palms and an azure swimming pool from my balcony while drinking a passable Darjeeling. I stare at myself in an ornate mirror for some time in a glistening gallery. People walk past me without noticing me. Each morning, I eat a delicately perfumed almond muffin, a croissant, and some pineapple. On other days I choose the Danish.

The world in this part exists like a map. Eagles, bats, and kites fly from one continent to another easily and quickly – from Brazil to Canada to European Union. Wasps and monkeys regularly cross each other’s paths in this forest that seems to have no end and no beginning. Pink azalea and bougainvillea bloom poisonously. Snakes cannot be seen but their slithering can be traced on the ground at which nobody looks. Peacocks stand here transfixed for hours observing their reflection on the slanted glass. There is a fountain near the hidden piazza from which prosecco flows. Trees as old as souls live here. Any moment, ripe jackfruits and unripe mangoes could fall on you. Jasmine perfumes the air like gas.

The native inhabitants of this forest have never seen the outside world nor do they wish to. At night, they dream of the rings of Saturn.

This enchanted forest has a secret name that cannot be revealed. I am here as a spy. I will report back to myself my findings.

3 responses to “Delhi and other forests”

  1. This is not normal writing; it is very certainly music without the notes attached. I went to bed last night only glimpsing at it; but, went looking for it again this morning. This is not composition one can pretend; copy/paste; cheat; steal; it comes from an origin, an artists journey; with a way that states unambiguously that this is where the author is now in time in space within eternity; and, that no matter what; such a work cannot be made cheap by any means; I only apologize that my heavyhanded compliments do not approach the light touch of that above. Maybe it is ok to ask; is there a bound volume somewhere? Simple thoughts from the U.S.A..

    • Dear Christopher,

      Thank you so much for your comment. It really lifted my spirits on the first day of the year. More than anything, thank you for reading and taking out the time to consider my writing. It truly means a lot more than what you might imagine. You have been really too kind.

      Unfortunately, I don’t have a published book yet (my first novella is facing numerous rejections from publishers). But I try to post here as often as I can and if you are on Twitter, I am quite active there, occasionally posting links to my other writings.

      Wishing you a wonderful 2023 and hope you will continue reading me.

      Warm regards

      • Saudamini,

        As to you, Happy 2023 and beyond; my sister, she lived in London; she worked with a woman off Westminster that enjoys supporting early authors by helping them publish their works. You’ll have my email address; contact me, it’d be my honor to put you in touch with my sister regarding potentially publishing your work in some form.

        I wrote some. Poetry, that is. She, my sister, worked with the same friend to produce written works to spoken word and symphony.

        You never know where freedom goes; creative freedom can be everywhere always, anywhere it wants to be.



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