By: Charlotte Choi Looking in the mirror Seeing a cherry blossom still a sapling Wanting to see the petals grow and fall Blossoms being to develop As I continue to wait Wanting to see the petals grow and fall Looking at…
By: Michelle D’costa Sharanya Manivannan’s latest book is The High Priestess Never Marries (Harpercollins India, 2016), a collection of stories on women, solitude and desire which was shortlisted for the Tata Lit Live! First Book Award (Fiction). She is also the author…
By: Malini Misra She craved for what she hadn’t seen, She craved for love she hadn’t been, She dreamed of a picket fenced home, with two children and a dog, Little did she know life could also be an adventure, She…
By: JD DeHart Enter the persona, because I don’t like being skewered by eyes classic introvert Wise cracking, is it too much wit again? or what passes for wit? I’ve got a heavy message, three bags full, full of data-riddled…
By: JD DeHart I’m not sure where the world stands anymore, old beliefs have fallen like slate sliding into boiling tense ocean I’m not two weeks ago me I’m not sure what the heavens make of this, if they look…
By: Neelam Singh The beauty of rain I behold Raindrops fall upon me Frost-bitten heart melting at the sound of rain Moments of pain exposed by the rain Joy, I see everywhere Oh! What a sight to see If only…
By: Jigar Brahmbhatt She discovered with great delight that one does not love one’s children just because they are one’s children but because of the friendship formed while raising them: Marquez writes in Love in the time of Cholera. I…
A New Pathway to Measure the Value of Water through the Culture of Bangladesh By: Mohammad Jashim Uddin and K Ahmed Alam Professor Dr. Anwarul Karim is a worldwide famous and recognized researcher of Bangladesh History, culture and norms. He…
By: James G. Piatt The top of the pepper Trees glisten With a scarlet glow from Vanishing prayers, The Mission’s bell spire Gleams with a holy flame, Dim umbra’s exist below. Oh beautiful summer day, What will you bring and Leave…
By: James G. Piatt Beneath the shade of a Sycamore tree, looking at thoughts reflecting off the ripples of a blue pond, I hear the strident voice of a red headed acorn woodpecker tapping, “forget, forget, forget,” into the emptiness of…