‘The Dream Chasers’ is one of those campus novels wherein friends make fun, do everything like we can expect and love the same girl. Set for launch this September, the novel is priced at Rs 199. Its story goes like…

By: Rati Agnihotri To get fascinated By the morbid details of other peoples’ lives To locate art In the slip discs of a chaotic composition To whisper stranger, stranger In the middle of the night And then paint all night…

By: Rati Agnihotri Please Crack the moon-whip Please No Under surveillance humanity But as i say Please crack the moon-ship Shhh, the priests sitting outside the graveyard are listening And the moon is shifting its gaze to your side of…

By: Rati Agnihotri Write on me in ink the deep blue language of moon famed silt and then print on me in ink those defamed chunks of moon mad memoirs . Look at me in ink The deep red ink…

By: Sneha Subramanian Kanta Sometimes stagnant ink dries; And at others the paper is crumpled. His eyes have stopped speaking now for long Yet silences move across nudging distances unsaid. Brinks of a brown coloured table Hold two candles on a…

By: Sneha Subramanian Kanta Sometimes when words delude One may hope to start with a prelude Quiet corners have intense rumblings profound With fire like flames burning ceaselessly around. Surrender to the dark For ’tis the only companion that doesn’t mock…

By: Konika Mukherjee The hyped revelation of Rowling’s book ‘The Cuckoo’s Calling’ under a pseudonym and an assumed background of an army personnel has led us again to wonder about the need of hiding behind an unknown persona. There was…

By: Neelam Dadhwal Absorbed in echoes of moonlight reflecting on calm waters, serenading in cosmic universe full of tornadoes, tidal waves rushing to me. The moon among palm leaves, among clouds, emerges in shades leaving me to interpolate rightly something unachievable…

By: Linda M. Crate They lived in a lonely, nowhere town. A goodbye place, a place of new beginnings or endings. It was a rural place full of dirt roads, and a familiarity that could provide comfort and peace of…

By: Nikita Gill August echos of emptiness. **** We parted in July. I loved you too much. I had not thought that would become too much for you to handle. And that we would part on a technicality. It was…