By: Caroline Healy he sat at the bar and drank. Intermittently, he glanced at the headlines of the newspaper on the table in front of him, scanning the tragic and the comic, hoping that something would jostle him, evoke…
“My Journey” by APJ Abdul Kalam, fomer President of India, is a journey into the vintage time of India’s yore years which garners true events from Kalam’s life. The book records the transformational journey Kalam went through to emerge first…
By: Sai Diwan PART TWO An age cannot escape history. And an age with history cannot escape literature. That is the story of the 1980s in India. It was the decade that commissioned the awakening of the Unnamed Genre. As…
By: Kousik Adhikari I walked into the garden Light decorated the offspring of light, So many flowers inexperienced Before the first rain, first fraud, Innocent breeze playing magic, Enchanting every live, every leave, But some moths waiting for first dream, Patiently…
By: Kousik Adhikari Dear. Charming-Artemis! Urbashi! I have sprinkled all These name-traps To catch your bird like beauty Galloping from twigs to branches, Blazing sword glances Over Adam’s progeny In what furious dance! Men curious from birth Dealing with roses-…
By: Shloka Shankar Another school year came to an end, and another heady, dizzying summer lay ahead of us. Earlier that week, my school had closed after what seemed an interminably long academic year, and I had passed into fifth grade…
By: Shloka Shankar Incessant rain pattered Across my shoulders; I soaked in the atmosphere And smelt the earth-ravished scent That kindles a passionate desire So well-known, and yet so indefinable. Bleary-eyed, I waded through Puddles and lost myself in Childhood’s delight;…
By: Shloka Shankar The clock looks at me indignantly And I wonder what I did to upset Time; I’ve whiled away countless minutes Twiddling my thumbs, Or contemplating a lost thought, Or in self-delusion. I’ve had my share of insomnia,…
By: Shloka Shankar There was a time when Things were surreal; I was happy. . . As evasive as that vixen is, I’ve been abandoned Time and again. From us and we, I stand as my lone self; Something was between…
By: Debashis Deb She asked ‘Did you ever get lost?’ He was almost breathless after walking uphill along the winding cobbled path which cut through the exuberant tall green grass and the purple rhododendrons. The clear blue sky appeared silent and…