By Kamalini Natesan
What I have is Daddy’s Hat, and Mommy’s Pain. There’s a hole inside me, I think. I think it is what I am, a girl with a hole inside her.
By Hirak Dasgupta
I was surrounded by indoctrinated men like me. And we all believed that Mr. Modi was the true incarnation of Lord Vishnu.
By Nabanita Sengupta
To be bovine is blessed
And to be blind
the real heaven.
By Hemaadri Singh Rana
However, with its cogency on legal instruments on statelessness in India and robust arguments on the need to change the condition of Rohingya, the book is of contemporary relevance and may attract legal scholars and policymakers working in the field of refugee studies and social sciences.
To whomsoever reading this.
Thanks for reading this far.
This isn’t a suicide letter.
This is the entire suicide.”
By Roopam Mishra
A few years ago when I read a paper on a particular kind of Bhojpuri folksong, I felt redeemed. This is how I reclaimed my ties with Bhojpuri by accepting, and participating in the culture.
By Seema Bashir
I remember that bright April day,
When they set the sun on fire.
When a worm crawled in,
Through a crevice in the fabric of time.
By Ram Govardhan
And Sara feels that matrimony, as an institution, would always smack of male chauvinism as long as there’s no female Pope. Her greatest dream is to tie the knot when the groom is in jumpers, shorts or long johns on the wedding day, officiated by a gay priest, sans the churchly rituals that suck.
By Amrita Sharma
In the present year that has surfaced new challenges for people across the class divide, the romanticised notions of love appear more and more obsolete and such narratives as those by Ludhianvi continue to remain as contemporary as ever.
By Rajyeshwari Ghosh
There is an understated sophistication in Mumbai’s spirit where you will not be judged based on the car you drive, the street you live in, the clothes you wear, titles you have on your visiting cards.
By Masidur Rahaman
Is not it both paradoxical and ludicrous that while the BJP today is baying for people’s blood in the name of nationalism, its founder not only distanced himself from the mass struggle but also wanted the British government to crush the movement by any means?
By Ajanta Paul
The blue-green algae again congealing
is miraculously sprouting in my lungs
mining its aureoles for the darkness of ages
sifting the soot of carbon memories
By Sabreen Ahmed
As her memories faded in the darkness of her mind, she looked towards her future goal of nourishing her orphanage and finding the traces of Imran in some human space or form. Continued strife with life seemed no longer a chaos.
The Judges for IIT Kanpur Antaragni’20 Literary Events.
By Swagata Ghosh
So far my usual reactions before this crisis have been to shake hands, to give a pat on one’s back, to tap one’s cheek, to ruffle one’s hair, to hold hands, to exchange hugs and the like, depending on the person I’m meeting or interacting with.
By Gopal Lahiri
Lopamudra Banerjee’s poems shimmer with luminous connection, landscape of longing and draw map of fury against the gender gap and inequalities.
By Q M Jalal Khan
All those over fifty rivers flowing through Bangladesh are dying due to the adverse impact of such an upstream dam called the deadly Farakka and about 130 cargo ships got stuck due to the shallow waters of the Jamuna.
By Mursalin Mosaddeque
When the twilight’s shade sees the birds returning home,
When the bells of the evening prayer ring,
Then this life will burn its last remaining flames.
By Barnana H. Sarkar
The editor puts a pause to those. Editors let the writers take a long breath and prepare for an endless argument. This is where the creative soul jostles the logical, and this is where some genuine work takes place.
By Krishnanunni Hari
A dog has died and that is not all there is to it; dogs who you didn’t bury yourself, and even the ones you did, still wander as other dogs who you have a chance to meet.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 