by January 6, 2018 0 comments

For U Srinivas and John Mclaughlin

A turn, a curve
A body bitten by a Gamaka
A slide, a deep swipe
of a fret-less life
Lovers stung by a Gamaka

A sloth, a murky sun
Bleeding fingers of a Gamaka
A wood of warmth,
that rubs your heart
A body aches in Gamaka.

A night dies between two notes
measures its distances through a Gamaka
The morning is drunk
The workers are out
Sleep has come to the old city in Gamaka

editors note:

Wiki says, Gamaka is any graceful turn, curve or cornering touch given to a single note or a group of notes, which adds emphasis to each raga’s individuality. (This poem comes from Goirick’s recently published collection, Wet Radio. You can get your copy here.) – mh clay

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