Cutting chai

The following haiku were written on the spot at our last meeting.

pelting rain-
the thought of cutting chai
drives me home

for frayed tempers-
the perfect antidote
cutting chai

SANDRA

 

hanging low
in the winter breeze
her breath
and the taste
of ginger on my lips

PARESH

 

cutting chai
again the waiter interrupts
my proposal

GAUTAM

 

cutting chai
the vegan
at a loss

cutting chais
the poets
make them count

winter’s eve
the urchin
begs for ‘cutting’

nursing a ‘cutting’
the world
through misted glasses

spring cool
the lovers share
a ‘cutting’

BRIJESH

 

the price
of wi fi
cutting chai

the argument
more cutting than
The chai

ROHINI

 

behind the Taj…
I catch the chef sipping
cutting chai

at the tapri
the chaiwala from
across the street

scanning the menu
I wonder what they mean
chai latte

cutting chai…
I watch my last pennies
jingle away

cutting chai…
still looking for
a smart kireji

RAAMESH

 

Would you like to submit something on cutting chai? Do send your haiku, tanka, haibun or senryu to inhaikumumbai AT gmail DOT com.

Inviting submissions for our new anthology

Indian summer
even our inhibitions
melt away

Even as I write this, IN haiku Mumbai has been in continuous existence for three years and a half. Over time, through innumerable cups of coffee in our monthly meets, three cafe closures, one anthology, a now-on, now-off blog, and the launch of a new literary magazine, we realise we’ve come a long way. 

So, we decided to celebrate ourselves by launching a new anthology, to be brought out by Diwali this year. And you’re invited.

We must say we had great fun putting together ‘the taste of sea breeze’ our first anthology of haiku, haibun, tanka, senryu, renku and renbun (which we claim to invent). And are happier to report that it was received well among the global community of ELH writers and readers, having had good sales in five countries. More than just a labour of love, it’s been an exercise in critical thinking and collaboration.

So, coming to the new anthology we propose. Here’s everything you want to know:

  1. Who: Anyone from anywhere in the world can submit. Our only requirement — the subject of your composition has to be India. Anything about India.
  2. What: Up to three each of anything in the haikai school of literature — haiku, senryu, urban ku, haibun, short-form renku (tan-renga, yotsumono) and tanka. Submit one renku or renbun if you like. Unfortunately for us, we’re not able to take haiga or any other illustrated form.
  3. Where: Send your compositions to inhaikumumbai@gmail.com in the body of the mail only. No attachements please.
  4. How: Please place your name, country, city and genre in the subject of your mail. So “Thaksin Shinawatra,  Thailand, Bangkok, Senryu”. Please let us repeat, do not send attachments. As the Buddha said, they only lead to sorrow.
  5. When: Submissions open 19 April 2017 and close 31 July 2017. We will then go through a reading and being period, and be ready to launch by Diwali day. So you can expect to hear from us August onwards.
  6. Why: Well, honestly, we had fun doing it once and we want to do it again. And because you and us, we all want somewhere to publish. But mostly, because there doesn’t really have to be a reason.

How to get selected:

  1. Please do judge your work before sending. While we don’t claim to be the best, we’re not so bad either. Our preference would be to have a slim but awesome book. 
  2. Please stay away from clichés. As resident Indians, we’ve seen enough snake charmers and elephants and Malana cream. Anything that shows India in a new light (and it doesn’t have to be flattering) has a better chance of being picked. Personal experiences will score, because that is the essence of haikai.
  3. We’re Trussians when it comes to grammar. Please do care to edit before sending. English is preferred; if you send in any other language please do send an English translation. We will follow Commonwealth spellings.
  4. Please be original. We’d like fresh, unplagiarised work. If you’re submitting previously published work, that’s fine, but please cite where it was published. Work published in a social media group not open to the general public’s view will be treated as unpublished.
  5. Selections will be made by our core group. Only that which passes muster among all six of us goes into the anthology. As we said earlier, our preference would be to have a slim but awesome book.

The decisions of the editors will be final and binding. And there’s no money we have to give out. But you’re all haijin and you’ve seen these two caveats before.

Happy submitting!

        sudden shower
        the mango petals fall
        off the new fruit

        A hatful of sky

        The writings of IN haiku Mumbai group

        Sandra Martyres

        moonless sky –
        not even a shadow
        to follow him

        XII Edition Winter 2015 – European Kukai
        2nd place

        **

        Raamesh Gowri Raghavan

        wandering
        with a hatful of sky
        the night
        is my only cloak
        and soon my shroud

        A Hundred Gourds, September 2014

        **

        Paresh Tiwari

        Anatomy

        dawn cold light over crumpled sheets . . . my hand over her belly . . . over her sagging contours soaking warmth taking my time over her stretch marks, reading faded words of an old-intimate diary.

        She stops me when I reach the now long-healed incision three inches below her navel.

        This one was him she says.

        beyond
        the moon the colour
        of emptiness

        Modern Haiku 43.1
        **

        Dr Brijesh Raj

        forest walk
        the cool breath
        of Eucalyptus trees

        Herons’s Nest March 2016

        **

        Rohini Gupta

        baleful eyes
        the bounding dog takes
        a sudden u-turn

        whiskers and purrs, a book of cat haiku, 2016

        **

        Gautam Nadkarni

        looking within
        the sky no longer creased
        by the ripples

        A Hundred Gourds — Sept 2015 Issu

         

        **

        Mahrukh Bulsara

        spring rain
        the tiny leaf
        catches a flower