Craft, image, accuracy of detail, the sorcery of unvoiced emotion, the constancy of sweet surprise, all these and more are the gifts that The Transfiguring Places conceals in its folds. Embrasured within personal paradigms—the poems are dedicated to his deceased father—Mehrotra culls from his life emotions cast in incandescent imagery that, at times, moves one to tears. As for instance, the two-stanza poem 'To an Unborn Daughter'. Nothing I could say, clever or concise, can capture the lyrical sweep and depth of feelings of Mehr-otra's words as he quietly intones lines such as these: "If writing a poem could bring you/Into existence, I'd write one now,/Filing the stanza with more/Skin and tissue than a body needs,/Filling the lines with speech./I'd even give you your mother's/Closebitten nails and light brown eyes,/For I think she had them. I saw her/Only once, through a train window,/In a yellow field. She was wearing/A pale-coloured dress. It was cold./I think she wanted to say something."