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By Michelle Cahill
Issue no. 12
The road leads us away from the temple of Pārvatī,from the iris of the spotted hawk, red and gold satin,the smoke of burning dhoop and coconut offerings.Away from bells touched by the fingers of pilgrims.
By Roseangelina Baptista
I myself, an Amazon child,Became an outcast soul,Just to know the spells of Mandovi in June.
By Rochelle Potkar
They never disagreed - Ruby, Tessa, Helium;he didn’t need coping mechanisms.He sowed his oats into soft burgundy strandsor in the blonde, or the one with rolling blue eyes.
By Maithreyi Karnoor
A woman has two hatchbacks and three pigsShe washes and speaks to all five everydayA man sells underwear and packets of garlic
By Chandramohan S
Issue no. 11
Every river in my landIs a pulsating relic of anEpic outliving its origin.
By Sonnet Mondal
The mango tree which I rearedis lost today somewhere in the jungle of my wishes.
By Pitambar Naik
Water has no colour, sky is not a trousseau it’s the likeliness of MF Hussain’s paintings
By Salil Chaturvedi
It's hard going to the marsh with her.It's mid-day. We are at my secretplace and the white lilies are in bloom.
Issue no. 10
from thisgreatheight Ijettison(lavender-smelling Kiran, are you listening?)my seed into thenight of Mumbai towards theovum of earth
By Mrinalini Harchandrai
They step outwhen you sleepor you’ve left the housewe gauge their sizefrom whorls in flouror ant lines to fallen honey