Three Poems
By Ananya S Guha
this small town lunging ahead
to the crisis of city
Even as the traffic in its mad rush
halts to let an old lady pass by
with a half smile
Five Poems
By Goirick Brahmachari
Sleep and love, I lose both,
As I slowly cage,
Rage and memory, I learn to gulp
To return to my age.
Book review: Deeptesh Sen’s ‘House of Song’
By Bhaswati Ghosh
Like every good poet, with House of Song Deeptesh Sen takes the reader on a journey in which she sets out to solve riddles but ends up finding delight in remaining looped within them.
The woman of nine nights (Navratri)
By Ronald Tuhin D’Rozario
My city of dust and sin
Holding whores and hounds;
Naked penis hang loose
Predator stalking prey.
Three poems
By Saidalavi PC
The nadir of despair, have you seen, my friend? Look here.
The broken bones and seared flesh of Akhlaq, Pehlu Khan
The chilling presence of a missing Najeeb from JNU
And a countless under-trials behind the bars on flimsy charges for days on end.
Four Poems
By Mubashir Karim
Actually
It lacks everything a balcony should have.
It is, however, full of pigeon shit and love.
Two Poems
By Sohini Chatterjee
Born of no man but undone by them
Draupadi’s story is every woman’s.
Three Poems
By Abishake Koul
I met her when she was young,
She had a tattoo of a Chinar leaf,
And the leaf had a bullet hole in it,
Even the tattooed leaf had withered.
Rest in Peace, Gauri Lankesh
By Santosh Bakaya
But nay, truth never succumbs, no matter what.
Its fire cannot be doused by any gunshot.
It will rise, and rise from the ashes
Branding a comatose humanity with the power of whiplashes.
Seventy Years Of Freedom
By Ananya S Guha
I passed only sixty in this nation
whirling into torrid seas
bludgeoned with
blood and grime.
Poem: The girl who bled
By Shruti Chandra
She bled for the first time when she was ten;
That day she knew the bitter truth:
She had lost control over her body and her destiny, too.
Two Poems
By Sunil Sharma
These modern pieces of architecture and design sold in glossy ads to the aspiring middle class
The looming towers, defiant and rude, piercing a jagged skyline, already crowded,
Grim symbols of their estranged labour.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 