By Manohar Shetty
Issue no. 9
He’s gone native, intoOrigami and embroidery,Pottery from local clay, puppetry,Kite making, wooden toys,
By Roanna Gonsalves
A sari’s drape is nothing like a suit;A pin-striped jacket’s cut is far more slick;When glass and bamboo ceilings need the boot,They say a trouser’d likely do the trick.
By Sarabjeet Garcha
The world might forget us,but we will continueto live on as an aftertasteon all the tonguesthat never give uppronouncing the word love.
By Brian Mendonca
Ebb tide on the ZuariThe barges furrow the seabedThe fishnets starkIn the morning sunThe waters, a muddy grey.
Driving hometo a lonely bed,longing, in every bone.The radio spews outsongs of love and lust.
By Marinella Proença
Issue no. 8
What yanks him from a cozy bedWhat harkens him before the redBall peeps: wakes up from sleepTo scatter light from antiquity
By Salil Chaturvedi
My first memoryis of standingin the middleof a narrow iron bridge,legs akimbo
By Suneeta Peres da Costa
Issue no. 7
At the turn off to the temple, smoke rises in the hills. In the fields, two women, red and green dhotis, bend to pick the dry grasses for cattle feed. The new paddy is yet to be sown ...
By Rochelle Potkar
Issue no. 6
Spring migrationPraying in the directionOf home
We’re the avant-gardeLandscape designersLeaving for posterityA palette of red ponds