An intense poem by Deeya that braids alienation and love. I can’t celebrate youScraps of junk you rotin my mind – the sudden stab in my ribsdoesn’t bleed through...
How dare Trump forgive Kim’s original sins, his human rights record: The rabid K9s he set on his uncle. The general he rocket-launched to kingdom come. The brother he...
Though it is a religious event, owing to the efforts of the minister for WCD, Archana Chitnis, a local village fair was organised 10 years ago. In that fair,...
The education in India is too straitjacketed to produce a progressive, happy society. It is not going to produce enough innovative people, or ideas, to really take on the...
Even though a slim minority, we are ready to own up to our hidden reality, rather than be the ‘good’ daughter/sister/wife that lives her lives for others rather than...
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