By Sabyasachi Nag
I fear, you too might die Akbari, all of eighty-five,
tied to the steel bed and forced to choke in this fire
someone else started, somewhere else;
or like Ankit Sharma, first beaten, then shot,
facing the gutter, by the house you were born;
By Swaty Mitra
Rohit walked into the lane to his parked car and drove slowly away from the procession, the noise, the voice, the girl who used to be, into the settling cold and darkness of the wintry evening.
By Vivaan Shah
Eisenstein’s lost film Que Viva Mexico leaps from the abstract to the lyrical and eventually to the downright dramatic. There are passages of pastoral beauty and evocations of rural life that blossom into the heart like sunflowers budding from a parched soul.