1 min read


Co- / -evolution, -adaptation, -habitation


1.

competition, the pragmatist

flaunts misinterpretation

of Darwin’s drunk feet

logging rainforests

for his own profit

millions of years

of collective evolution

and one whirring chainsaw

fight for a spot in documentaries

everyone discusses over mediocre dinner


2.

a thousand fig trees fell

their millions of specific wasps

flew directionless for a day

before the decay set in


frogs, ants, and barbets

feasted for the last time

before their forced migration


truck-flattened frogs


barbets with exit wounds


ants vapourised by the flood

of molten aluminium, unable

to burst away like wildflower seeds




Felling trees is the first sign of development


A boy of sixteen plants a future forest

That takes the government three decades

To notice, half more to declare as their own.

‘Here’s a reward, now look backward,’ they say,

‘There’s a new patch of land for you to work on.’


The snakes he saved get eaten by peacocks

He saved      as his favourite season is      monsoon

That keeps getting pushed around by yellow gods

Of unfettered mass construction

Or destruction, depending on who you ask.


‘Trees are always in the way of development,’

They say, ‘those green worshippers of sun

Guzzling the area’s water and resources,

For what? Our future concentration mansions

Will at least solve the housing crisis,’ they say,

‘We’ll think about climate in the next decade.’




Buying a flagship smartphone is the best thing some people do in their lives


Once the fever of getting married, making a child

Has died down, you’re met with a loneliness

Reminiscent of moving towns. New friends replace

Old ones hardly, if ever. Memories always sweeter

Than your once-held hands. Your days devour you

From within for as long as your career. You stroll

On technology with two thumbs, escaping. You

Are struck by an ad that lets you buy dreams

On installments. You feed it all your information.

Wait for the three-apertured God of a distant country

‘s wrath to come and drink your poison, posing

in every reflection you come across.

Lately, you come across them a lot.





Lavanya Arora (they/he) is an independent researcher and writer currently based in Bengaluru. Their work has appeared or forthcoming in Frontier Poetry, Soft Union, Tamarind Literary, RIC Journal, Kitaab, and elsewhere. They’re still writing their first novel.


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