Three Poems
By Madura Katta
I am a girl. Seventeen years old. Poet.
Brown-colored skin. Plays soccer. Junior at school.
Enjoys reading.
Plays soccer, collects coins, has glasses
Has life. Wait, has life?
By Madura Katta
I am a girl. Seventeen years old. Poet.
Brown-colored skin. Plays soccer. Junior at school.
Enjoys reading.
Plays soccer, collects coins, has glasses
Has life. Wait, has life?
By Raj Shekhar Sen
and suddenly Bukowski walks in through the doors
and before he jumps out the windows
he tells you like he would,
all great art is horse-shit,
buy tacos.
By Lopa Banerjee
Bhupati sat beside Charu on the ground and touched her softly, without saying a word. He did not know how to give her solace. He did not understand that when she attempted to smother her pain, she did not like the presence of a spectator in the ordeal.
By Soumya Sundar Chowdhury
Truth be told: recent geopolitical events have compounded the crisis and Europe’s wishy-washy stand on this issue has drawn an unfair criticism.
By Prerna Bakshi
Goddess Durga’s pamphlets plastered on the walls.
Mosaics and murals all around.
By Sutapa Basu
Capture of Tololing Knoll on19 June, 1999 was the first victory of the Indian Army and has gone into history as the turning point of the Kargil war.
By Namitha Varma My Grandfather is a King My grandfather is a King. In the dusk of aristocracy, he is a tottering monarch, a dimming light…
By Rituparna Borah
As we watch Kolirin’s movie, Max Weber’s despairing ‘iron cage’ goes into a tailspin from the pages of his manuscripts and we suddenly find it in The Band’s Visit: we revolve in a circle of conflicted feelings.
By Lopa Banerjee
Two poems on urban life.
By Syed Kamran Ali
In the coming days, Asaduddin Owaisi would have to further work on an image makeover to plant AIMIM firmly in the national imagination.
By Ajmal Khan
This time,
When my Mobile phone rang
They understood
I am a Dalit.
By Linda Ashok
This anthology is the best permutation of scientia sexualis and ars erotica; this anthology does help us measure that erotica is beyond casual pandering to commercial sex or an ordinary arousal, it is the arousal of craft, of language, of experiences, beyond the literal.