By: Dane Cobain I am immune to your bad advertisements, Thou ageing hipsters with electronic cigarettes Breeding discontent in board rooms; These days, everything causes cancer, And the joy is finding which silver bullet Is The Ruination. Sometimes I do dumb…
By: Dane Cobain I am so high I see mountains, the smell of crystallised shit is a foetid reminder of the civilisation I used to remember, the tree-lined fields of the one true childhood, gigantic metal spiders which traipse through my…
By: Dane Cobain It’s just line after line in some great drawing multi-dimensional phosphorescence or Alex Connor sculpting crazy visions he saw in drunken haze, Alex Connor drinking barrel hatching crazy plans and schemes; Alex Connor, half dead in hospital beds…
By: Rati Girish I have often heard my father say, “This is a dog eat dog world.” He would be flipping through the pages of the newspaper, when suddenly his eyes would focus on a particular section. He would stop, squint…
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…