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Monthly Archives: September, 2012

A matter of principle – C M Bhandari

Past, unless extremely unpleasant, usually presents a nostalgic flavor, and if it is about your student life there is nothing like it. Among...

Mendacious – Selva Ganapathy, Tamil Nadu

Disclaimer: All the Characters and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance of the characters to an actual person, living or dead,...

The day before tomorrow – Amitava Nag, Kolkatta

I Rita drapes herself with a shawl. There is a winter chill here. The shawl was a gift – from Arunesh. The thought of Arunesh...

Look Deep into Your Heart – P A Noushad, Kozhikode

"Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights. But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge....

Judicious Use of all Reseources is Morality – Malay R. Patel, Madhya Pradesh

“The parliamentarians are greedy for their perks; Servants are greedy for their salariesMillionaires are greedy to become multi-millionaires and others are living in cowardicePeace....

Let All the Books of the World be, My companions ! – Akarsha Ramesh Kamala, California

If only there were words that could portray the very humiliating moment in a language of its own……. Those bona fide seeds in him...

Buddha Tooth Relic Temple – Gargi Saha, Hyderabad

In 1980, Ven. Cakkapala, abbot of the renowned Bandula monastery in Mrauk-U, Myanmar, resolved together with five male devotees to climb the Bagan Hill...

The month of August – Mallika Sharma, New Delhi

he scorching sun gets duller While the lakes and rivers get fuller The air is getting moist, while the skies are turning grey The flocks of birds,...
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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...