Three Poems
By Poornima Laxmeshwar
I am the river with a snake in my womb,
I prey on your hunches,
I am a linear with no variables,
I am made up of my ocean with disobedient waves,
I am the guilt that comes with pleasure.
Three Poems
By Yash Pandit
I hold you as one holds a shadow; in my eyes,
I lose you between the flickers of light
And darkness. The radio screams,
“Don’t persist on leaving today.”
Five Poems
By Harnidh Kaur
I fed you bullets,
for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,
for sixty seven years, every day,
slipped into the buns you bought
from the nanwai, dissolved into
the noon chai you drank.
Book Review: Goirick Brahmachari’s ‘For the Love of Pork’
By RK Biswas
The book is divided into two sections – Home and Away. The sections represent the opposites, yet connected, and the poems seem to dip and swing, flow in and out like rivers that refuse to be separated.
Three Poems
By Willie Gordon Suting
He sees those words dance in the air
He wickedly smiles as he mumbles
and mumbles “Me…am…poet…”
Two Poems
By Meghna Roy
I smile and say that
Home is no more a noun, but
an adjective that qualifies this
long sentence from Kashmir.
Three Poems
By Sahana Mukherjee
Ten years from now,
I’ll have forgotten why you
chose halfways over my
house.
Two Poems
By Namrata Pathak
Boundary-breaking is all about eating a pomegranate.
It is a juicy rebellion after all. In a portfolio of
succulent half-truths, circular, the end being the beginning,
she becomes her own food.
Two Poems
By Tanushree Ghosh
But why then her eyes were always searching
For an approval
Why she tried so hard – to make the rotis round?
Three Poems on Nepal Earthquake
By Neha Basnet
Each of the fake angels survived on the profit
You suffered and no one noticed
Dusk to dawn, you knew them for real
Now you can’t call them for your bail.
Four Poems
By Goirick Brahmachari
I choose to sit by the window of my winds
And let this winter night wash off my sanity.
Naked like truth it dawns onto us.
No cigarettes to warm us up.
No bodies to set us free.
Three Poems
By Omair Bhat
I will love you then under
muzzles of assault rifles of
troops, slithering
out from sandbag bunkers into
silence of our city
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 