Harish Mangalam was born on February, 15, 1952 at Falu, Ta- Vijapur, Dist. Mehsana, Gujarat. 
He did B. A., LL. B, English  and is now working as an Additional Collector, Gujarat State. 
He has to his credit eight creative books, six edited books and one translated book.
Notable books : (i) Tirad  (Novel), (ii) Cowki (Novel), (iii) Talap (short-stories) (iv) Vidit (Criticism) & (v) Prakamp (Poems)
Notable Awards & Honours :  (i) Saint Shri Kabir Dalit Sahitya Award from Govt. of Gujarat (ii)  Gujarati Sahitya Parishad for 'Talap'
(Rs. 50,000/-, Shawl, certificate), (iii) Gujarat Sahitya Academy Award for 'Talap' & (iv) Shri Dhanvant Oza Award for editor 'Hayati' magazine.
Other activities : `General Secretary & founder member of Gujarati Dalit Sahitya Academy, (ii) Editor of 'Hayati' (Existence) magazine.
Address : 'Prakamp', 7-Durgaprupa Society, Nr. Kirtidham Tirth, At. Chandkheda-382424, Ahmedabad (Gujarat) India
Phone : 079-23297582 Mobile : 98242-45828,   email :  mangalam_harish@yahoo.com

Someone please bring down the scorching sun
from the top of the coconut-palm - lush green.

Burning it is from years.

My green, green occanic blood;
my green, green grass keeps boiling.

Immunity it has developed against
injections of consolations.

Would it otherwise hang down
from the age-old ceiling ?
Circling with uncertainly
like a giant ceiling fan ?

Poor thing !

Or would it be possible that
God (?) may have cursed it to hang ?
And that too my sun !!

here or there
coming or going
if I happen to meet God.
I will perhaps in a similar fashion,
hang him before the sun.

Oh ! The dearth of humanity....
A broken leaf --
Paste it with saliva so that
the branch may live up to
its scorpion nature....

Man's label -
Man's label, firmly fixed.

Trees of sobs blooming
in the chest everyday,
and breaths dumbed
inspite of innermost feelings
being given voice...

Inter-twined hands and feet -
Inter-twined limbs have we found,
Tricksters of being have flourished.

Somewhere seas burn.

Look ! They just roam and play,
gamble turn after turn.

Oh ! The search for humanity.

From centuries
is the blood in the veins cold, frigid.

Living with frozen blood is possible,
like me - like you,
like us, of course !

Come
let us bury
the 'corpse of the freezing process';
before it buries
me - you - us.

The feeling of co-existence
has stiffened in the joint-family net.

Let your heart go out (if you can)
if you see it pining
in the ceaseless avalanche.

From centuries
it has been pining
and will continue to pine.

But will our blood ever be replaced ???
or, from centuries.....