Just Another Day

Swelling, heaving sea

A public utility

Mumbai’s USP

And then…
Haiku lets me pick,

choicest words, phrases, pauses.

Nonsense limericks.

I have a sinking suspicion though, that these syllables don’t exactly resemble the Japanese on, by which the Haiku is measured.

The review is taking longer than I expected: is the hallmark of a good book, difficult language? Alternately, does difficult language point to difficult (and by corollary, more intelligent, un-simple, non-simplistic) ideas? Do you like a book for what it says, or what it shows? What do you mean, when you like a book? Isn’t all criticism finally then based on a subjective whim? The book that has got me throwing out all these questions is Angshukanta Chakravorty’s Brunching With Ophelia (Vitasta Publication). I’m returning to it right now, in the hope that I can find some answers. (I need to – have to give the review in by tomorrow, which, by the way, is only two minutes away.)