It’s the tree,’ said the dryad shortly ‘What’s it doing?’ said Rincewind ‘Living.’...

They are categorisingwhat has fallenfrom the house.Plastic is a conglomerateof colours. Metal shards of suns.Of wood......

When a book begins with this dedication, it includes every reader, every path. Shobhana Kumar’s collection......

Bending over clouds We are dunked, face first Into the broken arteries of Kolkata...

1.Acquisition came to occupylike aalmaram, alamara, alarumdistricts of our tonguesthat wouldn’t budge but was made toto accommodate.......

What I’ll miss most about home as I leave Kolkata this spring: A pair...

Whistling DuckWhistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle. Whistle.......

She had thick black hair that kept sliding on her face. She would jerk them back......

One April evening I saw the dance of fireflies Small smoulders coruscating amidst the gnarly boughs...

I peel a pomegranate,Each aril a red scar,My home is overrun,The peril is not far. A......