Tag vol15.2

Neipayasam

A man returning home at night from a simple cremation, having thanked everyone: we could simply call him Achhan. Because, only three children in the city know his value. They call him Achha. Sitting in the bus among strangers, he…

The Night

It was a night she would remember all the days of her life. It was the night before the day when the fate of the baby in her womb would be decided. As though it also sensed the turmoil in…

Kumkum Is Doing Fine

My darling Dadima, Namaskaar ! Today when after weeks I came back to Kabul, the post was waiting for me. Besides yours, I have received other letters from home: Mom’s, Brother’s, Uma Didi’s and Sushmita’s. But sweetest letter is yours,…

The Make-Up Box

A never-ending funeral march Looping itself around the cluster of hijal trees, a hairthin line ran parallel to the riverbank, cutting across the ground. Inside it were a few derelict huts, an empty field, a few date palms and the…

Poems: A Selection

WHAT POETRY MEANS TO ERNESTINA IN PERIL What should poetry mean to a woman in the hills as she sits one long sloping summer evening in Patria, Aizawl, her head crammed with contrary winds, pistolling the clever stars that seem…

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