Thursday, December 26, 2019

TAINTED WITH PRAYERS published as ebook

Monday, December 16, 2019


dried up tears leave
no marks where her pain ends
and mine begins
on this face makeup damp
aching sweat and cold sighs
R. K. Singh
This tanka by R. K. is written with great empathy. R. K. himself is definitely present in this one for the pain is mutual with his subject of "her." To associate with someone else's pain is the deepest kind of empathy and well portrayed in this compassionate tanka.
dried up tears leave
no marks where her pain ends
and mine begins
on this face makeup damp
aching sweat and cold sighs
R. K. Singh

Tuesday, December 10, 2019


THERE’S NO PARADISE and Other Selected Poems Tanka and  Haiku

                                   --Ram Krishna Singh



The tanka and haiku sequences in their present form appear for the first time, even as certain individual tanka and haiku constituting them may have appeared in print and/or online journals such as Sarasvati (Leicestershire), Cholla Needles (California), Still (London), The Journal of Indian Writing in English (Gulbarga, India), Poetcrit (Maranda, India), Haiku Novine (Yugoslavia/Serbia),   Ko (Nagoya, Japan), Lynx, Syndic Literary Journal, and Beneath the Rainbow. Acknowledgement is due to their editors.

Further, the editors of the following print and online journals and anthologies also published some of the poems, including haiku and tanka, presented here: Creative Forum (New Delhi), Cyber Literature (Patna), Triveni (Hyderabad), Indian Book Chronicle (Jaipur), Prophetic Voices (Novato, CA), Moongate de Homo Sentiens (New Mexico, USA), Amber (Dartmouth, Canada), La Pierna Tierna (Philadelphia), Xizquil(NM,USA), Haiku Harvest(Baltimore), Cotipora Cultural (Brazil),  Asahi Haikuist Network/The Asahi Shimbun(Tokyo), Haiku in English: The Mainichi(Tokyo), 23 Samobor Haiku Meeting(Croatia), 24 Samobor Haiku Meeting (Croatia), 25 Samobor Haiku Meeting (Croatia), World Poetry: 1994 (Seoul), World Poetry: 1995 (Seoul), Better Than Starbucks, Wales Haiku Journal, Wild Plum, Life and Legends, Scryptic:Magazine of Alternative Art and Literature, The Bamboo Hut, Failed Haiku, Simply Haiku, Akita International Haiku Network, Protexto, Cliterature Journal, and Poetry Festival.

                   For  Janhavi  & Vaishnavi my grand daughters




1.     Sweet Savors
2.     Nirvana
3.     Burial
4.     Now
5.     Chain
6.     Song of Songs
7.     Rainbow
8.     God, Sex and the World
9.     Closed Eyes
10.                        Hope of Divinity
11.                        Temptation
12.                        Designs
13.                        Luxury
14.                        Angelic Magic
15.                        There’s No Paradise
16.                        Life’s Strange Relation
17.                        Creativity
18.                        New Dawn
19.                        Moth
20.                        Smallness
21.                        There’s No Third Day
22.                        Harassment
23.                        Lies
24.                        The Ride to Return
25.                        Bangalore
26.                        Threat
27.                        Death of Desire
28.                        Rootless
29.                        Warning
30.                        Achche Din
31.                        Gourmet Journey
32.                        Nemesis
33.                        Hazy Vision
34.                        Existence
35.                        A Father’s Complaint
36.                        Let It Go
37.                        Blood Moon
38.                        Persona Non Grata
39.                        Me Too
40.                        Profile

41.                        Tanka

42.                        Love: A Tanka Sequence

43.                        I’m No River: A Tanka Sequence

44.                        Waves: A Haiku Sequence

45.                        Haiku

About the Poet


Strayed far from the nest
I’m fed up living with dust
for years fleeting shade

of melody
of spirit I sink to
the hades of utter loss
I can’t

reckon hidden mysteries
I have lost the sea
for a mere cupful

void of patience and
peace now as I touch the breasts
of the field I crave

for a pure breath
native to
my being I search
sweet savors

of love

2.     NIRVANA

Hours of silence
and a lot of walks:
no facile words

no touchiness
no paranoia
no pilgrimage

but chanting within
through the declining day
the inner acoustics

on a hilltop
no cloudy incantation:
gasp for nirvana

3.     BURIAL

I want to burn the fallen leaves
but fear the flame will hurt the trees

I can’t stand the stench rains bring
the backyard is too big to clean

I can’t rescue my habitat
nor trim the trees for better light

this all reflects the shambles made
for disco of convenience

why regret burial by
taunting helplessness now

4.     NOW

My time is now
the day of salvation
where is Father?
playing patty cake?
I sit a potted plant
and wait at the doorstep
tumbling sun and shade

5.      CHAIN

I do not write the sun, storm or sea
but re-create myself and others
in verses turn time or pluck some stars
to find my ways through masked trenches
witness to my sinking into mud
that curves the memories into bias
disgrace dust, sky, wind, all relations
window of emotions I must chain
to breathe a pure breath without passion
and discover essence of beauty
spring a move toward self harmony
perfection and peace, prelude to nude
enlightenment to carve life in full


I’m true in my element
begotten of earth
hungry to mate with sky:

seek me in song of songs
in kisses that he and she
rehearse on way to bed

the voluptuous squeezes
fulfillment of godly
and bodily promises

7.     RAINBOW

They color their hair
paint their faces to look younger
then speak aged lies
to emulate rainbows but stare
into the sky to find
which color follows which
before melding into one
they wonder what to do
with beige and indigo shades
that stick their vision


It’s part of prayer
to have the lingam kissed
or kiss it to feel

the creator’s pulse
for a moment
thank the body too

that houses the spirit
we seek in His name
for relief and salvation

through the cycle
of day and night
meeting and departing

learning and unlearning
each moment synthesizing
god, sex and the world


The faces appearing
and receding in
the darkness of closed eyes

don’t answer why
they aren’t winged souls
fading in the sun

I emptied before it set
in the gowns of girls
stopped from dancing bare foot:

they shake autumn in the rain
mist blurs the image
water spills in shady pool

10.            HOPE OF DIVINITY

The falsity of the sky is more real than the earth’s
lies can’t sustain hope of divinity

we have complicated with poesying
private hells to mitigate flow of time

that couldn’t carve  heaven: we harbor histories
of broken promises and fallen gods

lament men and women buried in light
now soulless, bodiless,  traceless we look

upward and whittle continents from clouds
hanging generations that may never be

11.             TEMPTATION

Again the stone-cool city
frightens the oval existence
downward in black moment
swamps of labor will vanish
in fume I see no prayers:
who can hope to dial new angels
when most have turned cubist cock
rivaling small spooks underground
tempting vulgar   feats with awnings?

12.            DESIGNS

Variously hued
neo-knights knock voters’ doors
search the holy grail
howling, trolling, abusing
baying for blood, lynching, rape

exposing designs
for new history, geography
and deity in mosques
set right blunders they didn’t write
reclaim rights they always had

13.             LUXURY

The framed-in-glass paper goddess
watches me pee in the one-room apartment
vastu experts blame for bad luck

they defecate or rape hundreds
in the open no god sees and none find fault:
cons love luxury of advice


14.             ANGELIC MAGIC

Luck awaits me
if I could buy it from
her miracles stores

she gives me three dates
for her call to reach
the higher cosmic forces

she dreams me stand
in the middle of a
tree-lined park

against saffron flowers
flashes of light focus
on my serene face

the shower of gold tempts
a being of light descends
I’m offered a new life

divine abundance
defeat of enemies
and stream of love

if I could pay
for her rituals of
angelic magic

15.             THERE’S NO PARADISE

The fog in mirror
slips by damp towel
cold sets in slippy hands

rain flows on windows
black water crawls down
like diseased reptiles

why scrub the smelly
there’s no paradise


The mind is put off
before the act blood lets down:
it’s end before beginning

how can touch be erotic
with cold copulars
in drunken gibberish?

they all chant their own
equations through grooves of night
trick weeds of ideas

life’s strange relation:
words belong to all
but deeds to a few

17.             CREATIVITY

The hole between words is vaginal
if the mind could penetrate

the seed won’t question age
inside the lines it crackles

with orgasmic pleasure
meanders through the tunnel

from first breath to oblivion
stays erect, liberates the text

18.            NEW DAWN

I love the night with you
when sleepless we yield
to passions of the body
tugging the nagging divine
in the mind ageing fears melt
and dry between the sheets
for a new dawn to set in

19.             MOTH

I gave you my love
what more do you seek
to lighten the night
my beloved
let the fire burn
and consume the moth


20.             SMALLNESS

I live in a crowd of fakes
smallness rises with age

my mind has ceased to think
new metaphors hardly happen

hunger keeps me awake all night
I mitigate minginess

inner lives are emptied
and filled with fresh stresses

too many fault lines run through
to make sense of the divide

my passion itches and prompts
I nuzzle the virtual too

it’s the same virus replicating
the same hackers that hurt

the vigor and rigor of
the new, left or pushed behind

whatever the remedy
wounds take deaths to heal

21.             THERE’S NO THIRD DAY

Nestled between smog and dust
my church faces a collapse
beyond miracle: I can’t
stand up to resurrection

there’s no third day for my soul
no third eye for Shiv in me
God is too old to revive
the rhythm that was my once

I’m now defaced, mired in scams
constantly raped and buried
in chaos of abundance
hope and unanswered prayers
in journey through  crevices
love convulsions and faith shops

22.             HARRASSMENT

Weinstein looked for
creative friction in sex

she always sought
non-procreative sex

in life and business
they condemn both

23.             LIES

No odysseys
under water or space—
retreat within

writing poetry in bed
confronting words to evade
the dead or dying

timidity of body
its libidinal romps
and circuitous lies

24.             THE RIDE TO RETURN

The ride in the car
from airport to back home:
my belly swings

the puke is too much too quick
the day ends in head with what
I’d take to get well

erase memories
of love’s pace in an
ever burning house

dog-earing pages
of the fragile world I wrote
and caught myself

again and again
gaze through the darkened space
decay with aged trees

25.             BANGALORE

No walkways:
food vendors line up
with pushcarts and vans
techies throng with backpack
bike and friends
deal with digital touch
mobile eateries
overwhelm footpaths:
remnants of chilli fish
chicken curry, biryani
nan, uttapam, dosa
and whatnot add to
sensory chaos
what if pedestrians
snake through killing pace
of traffic on footpaths
Bangalore is colorful
and affordable too

26.             THREAT

We chase myths in self-made Amazon
fish turtles that change color in new waters

we create landscape of nightmares and wade through
anacondas that threaten our confidence

lost in the jungles of our own making
we beat about thorny grasses now

look for the twin flames for convenience
cloud judgment and reality for control

challenge the Republic and divide
the defense that could never be

27.            DEATH OF DESIRE

Evening walk:
a peep into my own
lanes and bylanes
bodily harmony
a sense of inner calm

soon disturbed
by TV debates, news
and serials
over sliced apple, snacks
and distorted wholeness

before retiring
swallow pills to mitigate
her rising hackles
that walk me through to death
of desire for love in bed

28.            ROOTLESS

Hidden from the eyes of others
I was made in secret
but can’t remember my birth

from foetus in the womb
to severing of the cord
erased the memory

now rootless in the valley
fading sensations of years
pierce the darkling wings of
world wide web that blob my being
twisted and tangled, brushed

away like a fly hate mongers
hash tag my creation
pirouetting platitudes

29.            WARNING

Between midnight and three
I babble images
my grandson fears to hear
and kicks me in bed, warning
if I don’t keep quiet
he won’t sleep with me

30.            ACHCHE DIN

For divine bliss in the morning
they call out cows to feed rotis        
then chase them away from the gate
for fear of  smelly holy shit
the whole day their game of redemption
through achche din* in holes screaming
minced onion in the eyes and
ready to rob the cerement
from bodies buried by strangers
raising new slogans on sunset

*better days

31.             GOURMET JOURNEY

To win elections
they sponsor chaos chanting
Modi, Modi
kill tongues that utter dissent
or oppose foolishness

in the name of Ram
cow, love jehad, reform
close all windows
making dysfunctional
the holy Constitution

with small deities
watching periodic tango
pop up dinners
global collaboration
in newer territories

without money pouring in
dreams rise and sell
feet forward, mind backward
relishing lies of
gourmet journey

32.             NEMESIS

The deities are dumb
so they speak
louder and louder

vie with each other
for godhood

descend from mosque-top
to Supreme Court

now await

33.             HAZY VISION

Rheumatic walking
in crippling lumbar crisis
they pity and pass

the waiting sun
at the naked tree’s corner
my hazy vision

managing to survive
with repair and maintenance
ageing road

revives the dying nerves
her momentary smile in sleep—
I walk again

34.            EXISTENCE

Strolling in the alley
he watches the road turn drain:
it was dry till she came

now it’s dust and smoke
muddy and toxic
day in and day out

he breathes in poison:
listens to a dying sparrow
near the gutter

midwinter the rising sun
drives him to Seroflo
and manage his restlessness

35.            A FATHER’S COMPLAINT

How can I contain
her destructive energy
she conceals what she is
her toxic attitude

they all see
as she unshapes destiny
of her cornpone plots
in elitist mode

she lets down her own folks
with mendacious fabrications
brings doom to her own children
who were born innocent

brings shame to her husband
who seeks to see them rise

brings dishonor to us all
who hope to see her change
despite the vanity wall
she raised for years

she won't know what to do
when her parents are dead
or even we are no more

she can't even weep
or scream on anything she touches

she may then squiggle in her fate
alone in a lonely room
while others may look and not care

36.             LET IT GO

Silent gaze of paper deities
from the little temple
in a corner in bedroom
fills me with hope:

anything may happen anytime
despite uncertainty
unending jealousy
or tragedy in life

I look for grace within
contemplating the unsaid
in the rhymes of rogues and heroes

I’m not afraid of
the body in crumbled soil
there’s always another chance
to re-form my own present

re-write another half-page
in drunken oblivion
God is going to let it go

37.             BLOOD  MOON

Waking to a morning
tainted with prayers
on the toilet seat
nude nature waves to a dull sun
smitten by the night’s long eclipse

38.            PERSONA NON GRATA

Feeling sick with sensory poisoning
and the rising malaise is the black bile
I ooze, do nothing but unweave

the mind lost in emotional memories
and body in the swirl of sensations
sweating the cancerous stress, meander
through the nerve pathways, the fleeting shadows
the vague silhouettes, the colors in dark

rise to make me naked in bed
and I yell expletives in half-sleep
without knowing the pragmatics of response:

I hate the odor of my urine
and the cycles of rectal bleeding
no video game but frustrating

invading the mind and memories
susceptible to viral infection
medicines or no medicines I must
escape the empty wreck piled within

lest the body’s hormones system explode
and the balance without is disturbed
making me persona non grata

39.            ME TOO
I hate to end up
an anonymous failure
repeating the routine
exploring the others
reviewing what is not

there should be time for me too
to turn the leaves between orgasms
the fleeting moments of poems
and the whole lot of deaths

40.             PROFILE

I don't know who shops my books
or cares for sexy and wholesome
for the time I showed up first

I haven't made any money
transcending decades and not
belonging to back-scratchers
or goody-goody poetic
academia and press

trying not to seem better, or sell
I have stayed bold and alone
a work in progress perhaps

even without audience here
or maybe, I simply don't fit
the politics of writing now

but long after I'm dead
buried or burnt to ashes
I may rise again
a tiny phoenix mapped in
fresh DNA of silence
from google's graveyard

41.            TANKA

Stars on the earth
these glow worms I want to clasp
into hands and
offer to God as flowers
of my first obeisance

the wine of love swells
in my vessel dark shadows
recede human dirt
between sound and silence greets
the joy and bliss of spirit

love's spirit descends
and melds into her body
lending it new life:
I'm amazed how the unknown
becomes one with her beauty

full blue moon
divine channel from heavens
arrival of Easter Sunday
and April, the angel month

a serpent twists
its head to face a dragon
on her shoulder:
their tails on breasts in water
swirl to cleanse my kiss on skin

the darkness of bedroom
a tree’s silhouette:
she whispers its masked presence
and says no to making love

tears dry up
leaving no marks where her pain
ends and mine begins
on the face makeup damp
with aching sweat and cold sighs

in the icy wind
my fingers
she fears the chill
on her cheeks

I thought I would make
tea for her but she was sleeping
I didn't wake up
our back faced each other
once again cold birthday

smallness of the small
no sharing half-chewed betel--
mischievous whisper
in bed fuzzy sensation
of ruddy lips that's no love

the tenuity
of her story like hearing
my own confession
without the priest I wonder
if I knew my true voice

wearied winter
each night bed a living grave:
drying breathing passage
and lonely shadows
delaying disaster

November morning—
too many thorns to reach
the only rose
and the tormenting thought
that I am forsaken

too small to explore
the sea of the unknown:
island existence
breathing hell of darkness
dreading hungry excursions

source of salvation
depository of sins
no cake cutting
in church promise of reaping
if we sow recovery seed

in the white of night
sighs for supreme delight
steal tender pleasure
manipulating wetness
in bed unmask simple sin

her name
a soothing music
in the mouth:
I forget the pain in back
I seek the sky in silence

with how I look and
feel right now
seek a best version
and just look within

no one knows
when the sun will be clouded
or when it will rain
in Ramdhura
women and weather one

last night’s rain
paves way for a clear sky
this morning
the breeze is cool and the sun
adds a new hue to the spring

a tidal wave
touches the shore to wipe
my naked footprints
and leaves behind some shells
pebbles and memories

near the railway track
she squats with hands on her knees
and hides her parts
in half-dark the naked truth
transforms nature into nude

palette and easel
collect dust
in the studio
pained silence of mother

dreams puzzling
smallness of waking
I can't live
the child's circumcision
promise of happiness

turns off the mood
for prayer in the park
smelly underarm
of a fellow walker
running to reduce weight

choking air
in a walled colony:
two tired pigeons
perch on overhead tank
whisper pity on us

island of rubbish
home to cows, mosquitoes
and homeless mothers
speak wordlessly passersby
unzip to ease and move

the snail of traffic
near red light bikes zig-zag
on broken footpaths
at Bannerghatta Road
pedestrians seek safe refuge

health horoscope
planetary conspiracy:
rectal bleeding
not healing for months recur
backache with dying libido

the cup of remorse--
begging bowl
before the dumb deity
years of noisy silence

visit Vinayak
each day new prayers inside
years old faces
at the threshold hit their heads
the dumb deity stays unmoved

earthy body
and nightness of silence
fear in mirror
return to the river
echoing hollowed sound

when change comes
things change they say--
sight beyond sight
in the wealthy vacuum
all is well with limping days

42.            LOVE: A Tanka Sequence

On the roof top
she waits for her man with
 moon cake and lantern:
a flash of silver showers
on the mist-shrouded figure

her hard drink
to my man, lover of
animals, soft in sex

she stoops low
to the bottom shelf
in black jeans
her curves flattering and
red lace groping her hips

a tress of hair
she drops over the mole
on her forehead
thinking it’s ugly and
hides her own gazelle eyes

the beads of sweat
on her breasts do not touch
her years or face
in candle light her shadow
is more restrained than my thought

shaped like a bird
a drop of water lands
on her breast:
my breath jumps to kiss it
before her pelvic flick

it’s not ageing
but eternal delight:
she under me
smooth belly, nude necking
slow stroking parting flesh

I love her undress
the light with eyes that spring
passion with kisses
she leaves her name again
for my breath to pass through

she undresses in
dim light perfumes her body
fills room with herself:
we hit the hay together
drowning in each other

the chilly twilight—
tossing leaves and branches
tell of the wind
before sunrise she and  I
cross-legged, cling to each other

making love
she tastes the salt
upon my shoulder
in the afternoon I pound
like surf into her flesh

the wind lifts
her curved nudity hidden
in the water curtain:
I touch the strings that whisper
love in each falling drop

a happier image
with salubrious top
turns rapturous
as she tamps her love
with watery lipstick

love’s spirit descends
and melds into her body
lending it new life:
I’m amazed how the unknown
becomes one with her beauty

43.            I’M NO RIVER: A Tanka Sequence

The sun couldn’t help
nor fish protest:
river has no sex
so it dried up
trapped in its own banks

the otter watches
a duck walking on
the frozen river
icicles drop bit by bit
from a lone tree

at the river bank
she folds her arms and legs
resting her head
upon her knees and sits
as an island

I couldn’t understand
what’s Hindu about having
fish and onion
after prayers by the river
in the temple courtyard

I’m no river
flowing toward the sea:
I must find my way
asking strangers in strange places
sensing soul, using insight

44.            WAVES: A Haiku Sequence

Setting sun
leaves behind sparkle
on the waves

parabolic hue
through the cloudy morning:
wrinkling river

the sun rolls
on the waving Ganges
whitens love hope

blinding fog
and cloud of darkness--
river waves

waves of mist shine
with sun the day resumes
laughter shakes each bough

sea waves
roll from far away
white peaks

counting sand
between the toes
a dying wave

her name
written on the sand:
wave breaks

travelling back
from the waves of bliss
a foam-leap

45.            HAIKU

year’s first  snowfall
prediction of early spring—
sakura buds

winter holidays
my son chases butterflies
flower to flower

wandering hands
my knees intact

in  a grey land
thick fog

a red globe
rises at dawn:
waving corn

a sleeping snake
curled between the eggs—
layers of leaves

alone on  the house top
a sparrow

taking a nap
on oranges in his shop—
a fruit vendor

 in the morning sun—
 his long shadow

the village pond—
waiting for her arrival
with a baited hook

in their webs
spiders racing to spin
their meatless prey

height of the day:
shadows chasing shadows
ghosting dates

hitching up the skirt
she fills her pockets with
unripe mangoes

smell of fish
in his apple juice bottle—

knee-deep in the pond
awaits fresh catch to buy milk
for the new-born

pumpkin for dinner
she rues my preparation—
devil’s shit

waking up
gloves ready for the catch –
unclaimed light

dressing up
for the blessing:
money presence

crowded waiting hall
fleshly warmth with smelly clothes:
midnight train still late

on the footbridge
an old beggar spreads
her cardboard bed

her soft fall on bed—
dappled back

cursing love
with freak abandon
lain and lifted

in my path
a monkey wrench—

lonely hilltop
looking for lavity—
emerald full moon

crescent night
she keeps the flame alive
unstilled smile

her leaning head
from night to deathless light—

a touch of fire
in inner privacies:
the will to live

darkness of the heart
bouts of quiet clashes:
midnight oracle

cleaning the remains
of burnt out earthen lamps—
dusky temple yard

walking alone
lost in a different world—
head cernuous

night ends
in nakedness—
lonely bed

touching her tattoos
in the darkness of mirror
moon from the window

ice cream
melting on her lips—
senses flood

a night wolf
chomps the leftovers—
teeth in moon

swimming with the wave
stuck in the loop in water:
wisps of memory

unable to map
on the face where her pain ends
and mine begins

she looks ahead
after years of heart-bleed:
harvest moon

chilly stillness
mist of my breath
blue Monday

stands the house
unmoved on the rock—

coming out
a slip with zero—

paid followers
hitting with vile messages:
panic attack

post truth or fake news
hates odor of his urine—
self-invented lies

life expires
taking care of self—
clever delusion

hovering my head
luck-stealing spirits—
golden moon

fishing peace
in the inner sea—

after the discourse
beer and biryani in lunch—
Happy Drinksgiving

prayer book
covering the glass—
his last drink

Copyright: Ram Krishna Singh


Ram Krishna Singh, born, brought up and educated in Varanasi (Uttar Pradesh, India), has been writing poetry in English for about four decades. He has authored over 160 academic articles, 170 book reviews, and 44 books. His recent collections of poems include I Am No Jesus And Other Selected Poems, Tanka and Haiku (English/Crimean Tatar, Romania, 2014), You Can’t Scent Me and Other Selected Poems(New Delhi, 2016), God Too Awaits Light(California, 2017) and Growing Within (English/Romanian, Romania, 2017).  
Widely published and anthologized, and appreciated for his tanka and haiku, R.K. Singh’s poems have been translated into several languages, including Japanese, Greek, Italian, German, French, Spanish, Chinese, Portuguese, Romanian, Crimean Tatar, Bulgarian, Russian, Slovene, Croatian, Farsi, Arabic, Serbian, Esperanto, Hindi, Punjabi, Kannada, Tamil, and Bangla.
His awards and honors include Ritsumeikan University Peace Museum Award, Kyoto, 1999, Certificate of Honor and Nyuusen Prize, Kumamoto, 2000 and 2008, Life time Achievement Award of the International Poets Academy, Chennai, 2009, Prize of Corea Literature, South Korea, 2013, Naji Naaman’s Literary Prize, Lebanon, 2015, and nomination for Pushcart Prize, 2013, 2014.
Known as an Indian English poet, haikuist and ELT/EST practitioner, Dr Singh retired in 2016 as Professor  at Indian Institute of Technology--Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad (India). More at:  and

  ISBN-13: 978-6202292474Publisher: Éditions Muse (April 3, 2019)