Contagion, Literature and Other Concerns
By Sekhar Banerjee
Calcutta, a worn out late seventeenth century city of many hyphens fitted with fresh implants on its flanks, has finally come to a halt.
Memoir: Pickled
By Nishi Pulugurtha
This year avakai arrived a week ago by courier – my cousin, Valli, made sure we get it fresh. This morning, my aunt, Amma’s sister, called up saying she had prepared magai and a couple of other types, menthi avakai and thokkudu pachadi, all made from raw mangoes.
Sunday Morning Shows
By Nishi Pulugurtha
In the 60s, Hari Pulugurtha had made several trips to Calcutta from Bhubhaneswar where he worked as secretary to the geneticist J.B.S. Haldane. After Haldane’s death, when my father had to relocate he chose Calcutta. The city he always said appealed to him and one which for him and for us has always been home.
Football World Cup and nostalgia for olden days
By Moinak Dutta
Lack of availability of television sets did not deter us and our elder brothers in the colony from watching football. We would go to one house in the locality, where there used to be that technological marvel, a TV put in a box with shutters made of plywood. At that time, a company called Uptron sold those TVs here and some fortunate people owned them.
Short Story: The City Lights
By Srirupa Dhar
Rik is overtaken by the uncanny resemblances between the boy and himself. The idea of throwing up vanishes from Rik’s mind. Rik stares at his doppelganger – his own smiling eyes, thin nose, small, pointy ears, and cordate chin – who seems to say: “See yourself”.
Two Poems on Kolkata
By Lopamudra Banerjee
She smells of half-baked meat, red rain and raw wounds.
She thinks of sporting a boyish haircut, her blazing breath
Slicing the air in shreds.
Two poems
By Mallika Bhaumik
I have also seen her in her gentler mood at night,
singing to me her lullaby
as the last tram hums by
its vigilant neon lights.
Travel: Subhas Sarobar, Kolkata
By Nishi Pulugurtha
I was told that the place was once maintained well. The water of the lake was clean, the green foliage trimmed, and the flowers were in full bloom. Maybe things would change for the better here, some day.
Kutighat: A Small Slice of the Past
By Nishi Pulugurtha
The Dutch Kuthi is gone. What remains are the outer walls and dense foliage all over the place. Only that tree, with its roots embedded deep into the walls, stands testimony to its former glory.
Kolkata: The City of Joy that lives on
By Srirupa Dhar
A superficial view of the overpopulated city might reveal a severe lack of physical space. But in truth, Kolkata lives on because its people have internalized a space for themselves. This space is in their minds kindling in them the zestful rhetoric to live.
Spice and Life: Women Writing in a Local Train
By Nishi Pulugurtha
We chose the name, “Panchphoron” (পাঁচ ফোড়ন), for the magazine. In Bengali, “Panchphoron” literally means five spices; it is whole spice blend consisting of fenugreek seeds, nigella seeds, cumin seeds, black mustard seeds and fennel seeds mixed in equal proportions.
Two Poems
By Prerna Bakshi
Goddess Durga’s pamphlets plastered on the walls.
Mosaics and murals all around.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 