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Monthly Archives: February, 2021

The School Function

I was invited to the annual function of our school as the chief guest. After my novel’s overwhelming response, calls and heartfelt wishes poured...

An Ambedkarian Reading of India’s Tryst with Hindu Nationalism and Social Justice

The recent policy implementation of the 10% reservation for Economic Weaker Sections (EWS) by the BJP government has blurred the boundaries between social justice and consolidating...

India Post. Since 1854.

I stood behind the counter of our local post-office watching them sort the mail in the morning. White bags, imprinted in the red rectangular box with...

Aana Bharathi

Each day Radhika tried the plum skin under Bharathi’s neck. The fresh skin, underexposed and unscathed like the underbelly of amphibian body, tingled under her touch. She...

Fata Morgana

“Exquisite ghost,” says the martyr, the witness, “it is night.” "Where could we be, can you tell?" Vayu is the one who asks, breaking the silence, sweat trickling...

Finding the Truth in Fiction: A tale of resistance against a never-ending state-imposed dystopia

A review of the book ‘The Half Mother’ by Shahnaz Bashir. (Published by Hachette India Pvt. Ltd in 2014) When there is an imminent tussle between the...

Memorialisation in India: From nation-building to making “Hindu Rastra”

Today, collective memory, defined as a people’s shared interpretation of a common past, is becoming increasingly thought of as integral to the formation of...

Reconstructing our solidarity with the farmers’ protest

The controversial farm laws brought by the union government are essentially about the agricultural market. As the domains (Agriculture and the Market) come under the state...
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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...