Suggestions

July 2019

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Poetry Is A Hand Made Out Of Sand

—Kyabchen Dedrol སྐྱབས་ཆེན་བདེ་གྲོལ, translation by Lowell Cook and the author Poetry is the impoverished wick of a spent butter lamp. Poetry is the dog that scuttles an arc around the master’s thrashing body. Poetry is the grinding adzi bead’s sacred blood-spot
July 25, 2019

Poise By Purpose

I detest, very much, that word faith. I do so because of the way the word is abused, to convey anti-intellectual, illogical, and a blind acceptance of a conventional mode of thought without any further examination or probing. But I
July 25, 2019
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We Look Out For Each Other

People have been sharing images of religious co-existence in this country to exemplify who we are as people – so I thought of sharing a story of my own. My father was a very sarcastic atheist – but his looks
July 25, 2019
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Rosewater Women

The Hindi word Dalit can be translated as divided, split, broken, scattered… like a handful of rose petals flung into sugared water to flavour gulab jamun soft, delectable, melt in the mouth dumplings… but there is nothing soft or sweet
July 25, 2019
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Faith

They had had another run-in. No matter how much she tried avoiding it. And it was right when she had to rush out of the house too. She hated the way someone could belittle another person and then hours
July 25, 2019
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The Tears We Cry

I stood against the front door, staring up at her, bags in her hand. As my mother’s voice strengthened, my body weakened. I shrank to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, wanting to scream: shut the fuck
July 25, 2019

Jolie-Laide

My body’s first betrayal was not its own. Never abuse, not when it is the nagging nasty reality of a woman’s world that people will tend to sit too close, to encroach into your space, their hands lingering, yet
July 25, 2019
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Hope

It was a humid Saturday afternoon. The mugginess around had caressed most of my friends at God’s Children into an untimely siesta. Sister, in her white habit, too, was busy sleeping. The cleaning lady, Domenica, had taken the day
July 25, 2019
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Hold My Breath I Am Fading Away.

Sunshine gives me the shadows of black Rainstorm brings up the darkest night… Windy atmosphere touches my soul, hay… Hold my breath … I am fading away.. These little things put my mind on stake.. That giant man follows me up
July 25, 2019
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Chadar

It’s 42 Degrees. In between the hustle and bustle of Gardezi Bazaar, Beggars line up at the kerb of each street. Upper-class auratein walk with conceit, draped in their fancy chadars, clacking their heels. Mard blast angraazi music, car windows
July 25, 2019
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Tea With The Demon

Tea with the Demon In terms of beauty that hackneyed dragon still beating its wings everything can be broken down a little further each howling beast like the rest of us imperfect, uncertain bearing witness I didn’t like the look
July 25, 2019
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Memoir To Future Children

It was a beautiful day in some far future time, and the world is at peace and happiness is everywhere. In a school, a teacher enters the class, and students mainly of 12 to 14 years of age stand up
July 25, 2019

Fighting Menstrual Taboos In Rural India

  An Interview with United for Hope  The United For Hope organisation is an NGO which was formed to empower rural women with knowledge and skills, to encourage them to gain independence and dignity in their lives.  United for
July 25, 2019

The Gentlest Activist

  Surviving And Thriving In Times Of Crisis If we liken ourselves and our lives to ships on the ocean, it is a challenge at times to keep afloat, let alone to successfully navigate the troubled areas of life
July 25, 2019