Suggestions

January 2026

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I cried

I told him “I am writing a book”. He asked me “What is it about?”I said “It’s about what happened to you”.He rolled his eyes.I looked at his eyes.He said “Another one to hear about how we feel & what we need now
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After Valentine`s Day

after Valentine`s day…an empty gondolaswings the moon spring news…the postman stops at the gatewith lilac flowers my new pergola –bougainvillaea still climbingthe moon downwindmy cherry blossoms hat…and then I meet you pink Mount Fuji –pieces of fragrancepiercing its frame our bus makes
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Who Is Looking?

Power, Performance, and the Politics of Seeing Some gazes pierce more deeply than words might. And there are looks that heal what was broken. In The Gaze – you, me, us, and them, Himadri Madan does not just take the stage; she
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When Love Rots

She was perturbedby the strange stenchengulfing the house.She kept lookinginside the fridge,outside the garden,under the bed,over the oven,in the vegetables,in the frozen meat.But nothing was astray. Yet the stench remained.It seemed to come from afarShe followed the fumesthat took her to the
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Love

I lost my grandmother very earlyand so her sister took her placewith her light coloured sarees,her warm, welcoming smileand her amazing cookingand even whenthe fog in her mindbegan to eclipse everything else,she would still smile andask how we were doing andto stay
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Something Gave

Something Gave He told her to eat with her eyes first.It was a degustation menu. She played up her naïveté and asked if that had anything to do with disgusting. Ivo missed the twinkle in her eye, the mock coquette in the
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Outage

When the world got dark, five years ago,it was not only my world.An aeroplane got struck by lightning.My brother died long before his time.But even before that, a dear friend had failedIn his bid to start a new kind of life. Then
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Postpartum Psychosis

Have I grown my observation skills?Or am I without clues?Is it really OG Me?Or am I hung up on what they call “the baby blues”? Have I truly grown ugly,Or was this ‘me’ all along?Who am I now, that girl too naïve,Or
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Schism

the river dividesyour space and minewhere currents undercut the bankripples hide the undertow. our words erupt freestyleacross the water and tanglein river gum brancheslike giant birds upside downwings spread, beaks snappingblock a way forward. on opposite banksour footprints in the muddy edge.I
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Being

No prophecy told me that I would meet youApollo is speechlessIs there a Cassandra for me to listenFor once.I am in confusionEmpedocles’ Love and HateRule in our cosmosIt comes to Being and PerishBut our love is an AtomIndivisible.Everything is mingled togetherLike your
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Beyond the Stars 

I daydream about standing on the lunar ground,Observe the silence and no earthly sound.Earth would look like a tiny blue marble,Hmm! It seems like a story of Marvel. It is the Universe, where darkness is your only friend,An endless journey where time
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Flying Squirrel 

Will you give me a night rideon the magic carpetof your wings? Will youallow me to see the worldfrom dizzying heightsbrush the tops of trees and mountainssavour the taste of pure rainbefore it falls to earth,tip my shoulders with the sky’s inkinessthe
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Conversations with Hashu

The train sped past the platform of Mahalaxmi station. Efa’s anxiety to alight from the moving train and breathe in the fresh open air was still making her push forward through the warm, breathing mass of torsos, arms and thighs. She kept
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Childhood’s Fable, Womanhood’s Scar

Childhood’s facade shatterslike brittle glass on concretethe crayon’s vivid scrawlbleeding into nursery wallsMama’s voice a whispered lie“kind eyes of a god”a fortune in his pocketa mind like sharpened glasscutting through deceit The silver screen’s false promisesSuperman’s impossible featsa composite of flawless liesa
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Inside a Persian Rug

Inside a Persian Rug by Hina Ahmed Naani was the only person allowed into our wedding hall before the ceremony began, the VIP, the Queen Bee. She was the first one to see the decorated hall, the
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A Bed of My Own

This is embarrassing! Creak, crunch, heave – the bed announces even the slightest movement I make. As if it wants to spill the secrets it’s been carrying through these years. Of sweet-nothings whispered, of promises made (and broken), of sultry passionate nights,
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Decolonisation or Market Expansion?

How India’s Education Policy Turns Rhetoric into Paradox Introduction Initially, decolonisation referred to the political process through which former colonies achieved independence and sovereignty, liberating themselves from direct colonial rule. Over time, however, the concept has expanded beyond its political dimensions to
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