Ministry of Hurt Sentiments talks about what Mumbai is made of -- 9/11 to religious riots to rapes to call-centre culture to convenient mini-European holidays. It presents Mumbai the way it is -- warts and all.
The more the acid, the better the poetry. Though that should say it all, if anything remains, this single continuous multi-topical verse reeks of the dark, disdainful, devastating details that a city like Mumbai is made of, reminding you much of Delhi’s own dirty, deathly underbelly, too.
The stink of the sewage to the American air-conditioned dream all find their place in this piercing poetry that bombs Bombay. Here, 9/11 to religious riots to rapes to call-centre culture to convenient mini-European holidays blend in like people from different countries packed in one haunted house.
Friends-enemies-families fracas. The book spews out Mumbai like bitter poison, and the last word leads you safely ‘elsewhere’, but not before turning reality into a poem that punches you hard.