Translated from Sindhi by Lajwanti. K. Jaisinghani and Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla I myself am Punhoon, O sister this I have not forgotten I don’t turn my back on this truth,tell me what other I would be In Kutch and BamboreIt is I who dwellswhere else should I journey? People say you have many AashiqI, myself…
The Hourglass
A Short Story by Chaitali Sengupta ……….The fitful autumn gusts shake the window panes all night. As if an angry beast in chains wants to break free. On nights like this, Sucharita cannot sleep. A strange discomfort hangs over her. It drains her of all energy, but the thoughts and the memories remain. Getting up…
My Sister and The Kite
A short story by Yuri Kageyama I have not spoken to my sister for years. She is the only sister I have. I’m not sure that makes our growing apart an extraordinary loss in a human connection, or just the loss of one person in an array of such connections. I usually don’t worry about…
Short Story: A New Dawn
By Indrani Talukar The door is locked. But she can hear Bahadur’s voice lilting like a feather caught in a breeze. “Bibi!” He knocks thrice. Typical of him. Opening the door, she puts out her head hesitantly, knowing fully well she will not see anyone. Anyone other than Bahadur. “They need more jars of apple…
Poetry: Matt Schroeder
Hangman Days Unbearable, the world that broke into time.Unbearable, the just-born certainty of distance. ……………………………………………………………–Susan StewartAll I wantis to be told………………………..take your time that the lineisn’t dead……………..instead as soft…………….& malleable asthe forests I hidebeneath my tongue that objectsare no closerthan they appear dead dogs…………….hospital bills………………………..slowing senses ………………………..it’s not that I don’t………………………..look up at the sky………………………..&…
Window Pane
An Ekphrasis Flash Fiction Collaboration with photography “Window Pane” by Beatrice Georgalidis, and Fiction by Mark Blickley It was time for Ralph’s first real haircut. Ralph’s mother said it was time, as did the next-door parents of his best friend, Emmitt. The only person who did not think it was time for a real haircut…
The Scream by Dhirendra Asthana: Translated by Bhuvendra Tyagi
Original Story in Hindi: चीख: धीरेन्द्र अस्थाना The Scream, Translated by: Bhuvendra Tyagi The moment shone like fear in deep darkness was when I was told that Kunni had left the house. Has gone? Where has he gone? How did he go? How can Kunni go from home? There were questions that surrounded me from…
Kamayani: Jaishankar Prasad
Excerpts from the Epic Hindi Poem Kamayani (Translated from the original Hindi into English by Usha Kishore) _____ Excerpts from Canto I: Chinta (Thought) On Himalaya’s spiring summit……………sheltered under shadows of stone,the lone man, with tearful eyes,……………discerned the swelling deluge. Below was water, above ice;……………one fluid, one frozen.One elemental prime – call it……………what you may,…
A Team Effort: The Tenth Edition of Life and Legends
The Tenth Edition of Life and Legends is a team effort and the labor of love. I want to thank our new team members, Lopa Banerjee and Megha Sood, for diligently working side by side with me to pick the finest pieces of prose and poetry, and Nirvan Chitnis for presenting everything elegantly on our…
Poetry: Joshua Corwin
Forgiveness, I Am Eclipsed forgiveness, exploding stars, breaths,Faithful embers in the midst of shadows.Forgiveness at our fingertipsCaptured by the smoke ofA train travelling down tracks,Past the house where I lived,With a piano where I prayWith my fingertipsOf forgiveness,And let colors immobilize meIn a world of sound. I have walked down the highway,Feet dragging,Without a coat…
Poetry: Melissa Studdard
Supplies I Will Require Before Seriously Considering the Job *Forthcoming in Dear Selection Committee (JackLeg Press, May 2022) _____ Family Tree My mother was a lake ………… full of water lilies, my father was a bridge………… between the bardo and heaven. He tossed me………… to his shoulders for the parade of grandparents………… at night: Orion…
Poem-A-Week – Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
A Bucket of Hot Water and Salt
Conscious of my blessings where water poured out of a tap
Even if for two hours a day, the man with the camel skin bags was ready, if it didn’t, I passed the *ghamelas full of mud from the top of the hill, Down the assembly line to the bottom, Baked in the sun, and exhausted in every limb I returned home to water and love.