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Monthly Archives: April, 2011

A meeting with the Almighty – Vincent Marias

It was during the good old days of my college life.  Life was happy and carefree, devoid of any serious responsibilities other than collecting...

A guided tour into an Indian IT company – Anuradha C

If you are walking past shiny glass front panels on huge buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, well laid platforms beside equally well laid roads, and...

‘Success’ Shines Better with ‘Interest’ – Irene Sandra Devadas

Interest is a relative term which is essential to taste success in every individual’s life. In every aspect of life it is always better...

If it were so – Balakrishnan D

Life is full of contradictions from birth to grave, as all of us would have experienced at one time or the other. Whether it...

Manu Joseph’s ‘Serious Men’ – A review by Prathiba Wilson

Many, award winning novels tend to dwell in the melancholic view of emerging India, and Serious Men by Manu Joseph is no exception. But...

The distance between hearts – Sumi Mathai

The word slept on its way from a heart to another. when it woke up, it was amidst thousand other sleeping words. panicked, lost, helpless, the word went back...

The Wrath of Nature – Nayanathara

Nature has opened its gargantuan mouth once again, Greedily devouring massive man-made embellishments – Skyscrapers, ships, houses, aircrafts, buses, trains, Even the so-called ‘earthquake-resistant’ nuclear plants… Violent tremors...

Tribute to Indian Soldiers – Abha Goel, Delhi

I salute you To describe how I am feeling right now, I have words very few. I watched maa tujhe salaam, My first patriotic movie, And now I realize...
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Latest

The Forgotten Daughter of Port Adamaro

The story entails the political-historical period of the 1970s when the Dalit Panther movement was soon, to begin with, the influence of the Black Panther movement of the west. The following short story speaks of the relationship of two sisters under the premise of the revolution.

Resurrection

i have arrived at my altar. hark! i rise, i flourish, i pirouette on my one toe and float like a...

Stalking Prisons

The streets are empty with no one in sight, I check the big clock of the tower behind the basilic of Saint Francis of Assisi. It’s 2 o’clock on a mid-summer Tuesday afternoon. Everything’s shut. Everyone’s resting. My heart’s hitting the walls of its all so tight ribcage, as I need to cross the brightly lit square and go to the other side.

Must read

Reviewing ‘Obsession and Wild Pigeon’ by Ismat Chughtai

My interest in Ismat Chughtai developed when I first...