From Kolatkar's Kala Ghoda

"...Your sari wears a grin/where your buttocks have sucked it in."
"Which sets us all back by a good ten seconds.
It isn’t just your sari,
It’s time itself that feels the pinch"

........

"And I find myself a prisoner once again,
posthumously,
wearing a stone collar around my neck,
in Bombay instead of Baghdad,
with no hope this time
of ransom or rescue,
and forced to watch
the slow disintegration of a city
I cared about more than any other."

.......

"unable to recognise her own
one-room apartment in Baniocha, near Warsaw,
where she’s the only Jew left.
She stares at the matzos on the table,
freckled
like her own 90-year-old skin,
and wonders where they came from;
and what happened
to everybody."