By Rayla Noel from Bangalore, India

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Indian dancer Mohenjo-girl

Your lips never lie, not when I see you

really see the one you are in rust

Like I…

Hey We were too born just another Indian,

Daddy’s eyes, mama’s – side shy ways

( ah the talks we speak!)But you never can lie

look at you

barefoot diva ( I clothe you in my charcoal suit

dress you down to our moral style

Someone said we soft Indian people are breaking- hesitant to

Say it like we feel it Uh

 …. Really??

How might I retrace your half shut eyes and


waiting to dance, as if not half saying,” Tho ? So?”

Or ” What.”

not a question, just rhetoric.

What draws us



Our decades rapped by indifference

our rice drunk with draught

markets romanced by debt

Yet all stark-staring-fabulous,Who said Not.

(Once I met a young criminal with broken eyes, striking beautiful,

who denies > a human is born impossibly nice


babes with HIV,& retired presidents or senior KG graduates or

Love torn epitaphs, everything is beautiful, so what

unbuckles our national happy feet)


This is why and how See,

She taunts me, this old Kid I drew,

draws me into debate


Un-hide yourself ” she mouths in stone carved lips

via her buried storeys

I confess a jealousy of her cool old Mohenjodaro eyes shut at

Us, as if we know less



  1. Amazing job love this periodical every bit of it

    Best wishes

  2. dr Rekha Deshmukh

    Rayala Noel
    Beautiful painting& poem

  3. Thank you so much my pleasure!