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Monthly Archives: March, 2018

Role of Ethics and Moral values in Competitive Business Ecology – Malay R. Patel, Ahmadabad

“Truth is absolute and it never damages a cause that is just.”-Mahatma Gandhi Absoluteness of Moral Laws If, we believe that we are living in a...

Freedom: A Chance to be Better- Malavika Gopakumar and Jeslin Jijo

Abstract This article is an observational report which focuses on the changes post martial law on Taiwan. The end of 38 years of martial law...

Writer’s Dreams, Editor’s Knife and Seller’s Rack : Contemporary Tendencies in Creative Writing -Dr. Christine Williams, Director Sydney School of Arts & Humanities...

Interiview with Dr Christine Williams, Director, Sydney School of Arts & Humanities by Dr. Syam Sudhakar, Kerala Several universities, colleges and their boards of studies...

Three Poems ; Truth, Knives & Vast – Ashraf Kallod, Kerala

TRUTH If I write truth Somebody will attack me. If I write lie I will be attack by myself tell me What I have to write ? KNIFE Knives fighted On the road, Stars...

Eyes – Sanober Kahkeshan, Maharashtra

While passing through a railway station My eyes met many eyes; Some beautiful, some tired, some fiery, Some fearful, some cunning, some stunning. But the one which I...

Untold – Sanjay Das , Tripura

A glass, emptied and dried Let me pour in it, my stream of words A flow from my heart, The silences… “Oh! Stop being repetitive! These are clichés,...

Enigma – Suryasri Saha, Kolkata

Sometimes I feel lost not in this enigmatic cosmos but within my own enigma nursing the myriad me in diverse seasons and in more diverse moments...
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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...