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Home November 2018

November 2018

Poems by Ranu Uniyal

GRANDFATHER You remember more of what is no more. Past steps into your bedroom and your grandson becomes your newly born. You love to address him as Baba – this is how you called your first born. The present blurred and faceless has no challenges for you. Your face perks up and breaks into...
Civil Guardsmen From a field of grasses dried by wind, two civil guardsmen stare toward the sun for traffic on the lonely road they have been stationed to protect. They are tall against the burnt horizon, still as the ground itself, and one is the reflection of the other as, side by side, they stand in place. Should one turn around,...
Writa Bhattacharjee Fantasy fiction is one of the fastest growing genres in Indian popular culture today. Spurred by access to international books and media, as well as the rise of a new breed of authors, fantasy has been rising in popularity over the last couple of decades. But what exactly...
suicide paula’s weak moment leaving me early sad lonely feeling nightly she returns softly whispering her lost love still in my heart bliss alone in library empty used bookstore roaming shelves sacred experience like attending church feeling hopeful promise quietly turning pages becoming dreamer again freedom waking to birdsong before first light building small fire boiling water from stream instant coffee oats in tin cup ready for journey picking way over deadfall brushing aside cobwebs escaping...
Kiriti Sengupta I forget the poems I write. I don’t blame memory. Thanks to the two molar teeth I lost in spite of being a dental surgeon. They were badly broken. I had excruciating pain and did not listen to the consultant who had advised Root Canal Therapy. I wanted...
Where Technocracy Ends The other day, since I couldn’t recall, I googled “What was I just thinking about?” and the computer would not give me the correct information to my inquiry. I asked it this question a million times over and every time it gave me the wrong answer. It felt good knowing there were still some...

Introduction

Introduction: It takes guts to speak with artistes, especially poets. They are sensitive, they refuse to speak much about themselves (here I’m talking about old-time poets, the present clan is more vocal), and it is even more difficult to understand their mood and psyche. When I asked Nikita Parik, assistant...

Poems by Lucy Wilson

Distant Thunder I. Monster Mash My sister noticed first: “You walk like an old lady.” I was forty-six, but she was right. I could not, would not, see. One day on the beach in Hermosa, walking along the shore, I stopped and looked back. The sea tried to hide the evidence but I was too quick: step slide, step slide,...

Client 7

STEPHEN MCQUIGGAN The voice from the intercom froze Tina in the act of adjusting her garter belt. It wasn’t the information the voice relayed, for in truth she had been checking the digital readout (half concealed by condom packets, jars of lube, whips and furry handcuffs) every few minutes and...

Poems by Sumana Roy

Balasan I’ve met the river before, but this is a new setting— like meeting a parent in their office. Bala—sand, san—stone: a river baptised for spitting its monsoonal gifts, like calling a girl Khushi, to bait happiness. The mountains that fight the grease of dust when we look at it from Matigara, they are here now, my...

New Beginning

Debasis Tripathy He had lost interest in life. His life had turned into one like those countless chickens in poultry farms, just that unlike the chicken he had the capability as a human being to end his life by his own will. There were many a time when he had...

Poems by John Hennessy

AFTER ALEXANDRIA What an agony not to wake up next to you. Not to have fallen asleep with your head on my chest. I made the bed quickly, as you did every day, sheets that still smell of your hair and skin. Your pillows, one that you took with you, take with you everywhere, sandalwood...