A re-run of the interview with U R Ananthamurthy from the July issue.
Arul Gaspar pays tribute to the late writer, Nadine Gordimer, who was an agent for political and social commitment
On certain nights there are nightmares, dull, blinding and dramatic. Every time the scene is the same, I run down the Sukleshwar ghat on the…
While the view was magnificent, no one had enjoyed looking out the window of apartment 2G of 110 East End Avenue in several years. While…
We experienced our first hurricane in that house on Frangipani Street, and luckily, you were too little to remember any of it. Hurricane Luis was…
Thinned blood gushed from the wound. His stomach a mash-tun, his head spun madly. God fucking…shit Ruined! That was the only thing from Berlin A…
We stood in a row, I do not remember who led,
Who brought up the rear,
But the fireflies raged,
Lighting up the forest, the velvet rocks
every night you ask why I love you
and every night I fail to answer.
Tonight, on Bhasha Dibosh,
I have an answer.
The children double-time,
surrendering keffiyahs and hijabs
to the breeze.
They will not make it.