Friday, April 26, 2024

June-July 2018

Welcome to Ethos Literary Journal (ELJ). Here is the inaugural issue and for this volume we have an eclectic mix of short story, review, nonfiction, memoir, interview and poetry. I’m blessed with extremely efficient genre-editors (Amit, Utsab, Koushik & Pramila), who have picked the right pieces for the best...
PLAYMATE As kids, you and I Loved red paper lanterns And exquisite Japanese dolls. In winters, we decorated Our flower vases With chrysanthemums the color Of tiny pink cakes. In summers our fathers Took us to drink Green mango sorbet At the same quaint little joint. Springs and autumns were The times for new clothes During festivals as even trees Turned fashion-conscious And flaunted their...
Jalebi of Mani’s Shop These semi-precious ornaments Of liquid golden hue, they filled it with the sweet sap Of sugar—the very outlook causes watering in mouth That melts and crackles under the tongue and dissolves A forgetful evening. Home-bound passengers from local trains, As they return, all in a hurry like with a puff of...
Translated from the original Rajbangshi language by Jyotirmoy Prodhani A Poet You Are Poet, come down to the dust and watch the shades of the setting sun. Poet, walk down that path and watch the lives lived by men. I Want To Become A Sky I want to become a sky a sky I do want to become— broad and...

Ra Sh

THE DECLINING ART OF HEART MENDING Cannot deny that I have a brittle heart, weak and fragile like thin ice! As it happens with hearts that are volleyed back and forth, mine too drop and crack with a crunchy sound, like a bag of wafers. Now, you know that girls make the best cardiologists. The Heart is...

In The Rains

Mallika Bhaumik Arindam's Diary 7th July, 2012 I watched the rain from behind the glass window, as it fell softly, silently on a warm July night. The wet brooding darkness gazed at me from the other side of the glass. There was a sense of loneliness akin to us, me and...

C.M. Crockford

Cool Masculine Hair careless tangled; dirt bristling on dried skin. I'll be clean, I'll be beautiful again, a cool, cruel image for someone. I press the glass against my cheek, feel the condensation disappear into natural fires. I'm James Dean in the photos, the film, despite all my disabilities... Let me be him for you: I've got that...
Pinakbet A dish I watched my grandma cook with zest. I was six or seven. Bitter gourd because I’m diabetic, my yearns for sweets squash-yellow. Canola oil sizzles, the air adorned with garlic expressions, wafts of red onion. Drizzles of black pepper, and I wonder if this spice will let me live longer. Eggplant will tell me if...
What if poetry fails to connect with readers?—asks Vinita Agarwal in an interesting conversation on her works and different perspectives, with Poornima Laxmeshwar. Poornima Laxmeshwar: When I read your poem “Gift,” it reads like describing the absence of someone’s departure and that the only way out was to put it...
Title: England, England Originally published: 27 August 1998 Author: Julian Barnes Page count: 272 Publisher: Jonathan Cape Genres: Satire, Farce Nominations: Booker Prize Reviewed by Abhijit Acharjee The eighth novel of the Booker winner (2011) author Julian Barns is woven around the lives of a cluster of characters in a corporation that is lead by an entrepreneur and ‘ideas man’, Sir Jack Pitman....

Devika Basu

The Touch Last night I woke up to a dream. Foam in the sea trying to catch time in myriad forms; my limbs drenched in waves my hands outstretched. A dream touching the timeless Alone The street lights greet me in benevolence when I look at the night with a watchman’s eye. Traffic pauses to think how busy the road is, and I become...

Sanjeev Sethi

Conation Between perceived hurts and intended harm I cottoned myself to a kingdom of one. Here even the wind fails to tease me. Air-condition- ing has its advantages in intramural settings. Earthshine is nature’s compensatory face. How does the human construct simulate this model to hum its way to happiness? Game plan is within us. Unwrap yourself:...