Places

Bombay / Mumbai , India

Bombay / Mumbai , India

« I prefer to use the older name, ‘Bombay,' as it symbolizes the inclusive and cosmopolitan character of my city. »  —Ranjit Hoskote

Students of Sanskrit will recognise, in Kalyana Malla, the author of the erotic manual, Ananga Ranga. Since Sanskrit authors are not often situated, at least not to general readers, in a specific time and place—they...

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My father was the quietest man; his few words made no sense

in the world’s idiom.

Saddled into a marriage

astride a dead horse of tradition he flogged it too many times

for two...

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My uncle had a strange habit of gathering people. Not less than 25 he would take on an outing. Like: Aunty Perpetual with her breast cut who would lift her t-shirt every time to show us her story, Avo who would stand...
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This is the city of dreams,

not for their fulfillment,

but for those that it consumed

and passed down as heirloom;

you can see these on the streets at half past seven,

bare fists...

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Plurality isn’t enough to tickle you pink.
I’ve shared magical, misty evenings
with endless seekers via somatic unguents
but not unlimited with the one I wanted,
certainly not when I was a louse...

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Three walls of the room are made of tin, but on the fourth side a polished floor opens, running like fabric into curtains of lace, into wallpapers dotted with flowers, into ceilings pierced with mirror baubles,...
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Rabisankar Bal’s Ayna Jiban, translated from the original Bengali by Arunava Sinha as A Mirrored Life, is a captivating novel that celebrates the tradition of the katha, the dastan, the qissa and the kahani, the...

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He was first a snake and was in love with her - a she-snake. And then he molted and after he molted he was a turtle and he met another she-turtle and fell in love with her. When he de- shelled after years, he became a...
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Snakes and ladders

I met Mrs. Kumar twice in my life.

The first when I was an administrative assistant and she, the wife of a man who had climbed the slippery corporate ladder...

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Alpenglow on your cheeks constellate me


to our cosmos, quickening in this heliolater


of calentures that never convalesced. Lost


in its energy, I continue bird-dogging protocols


for...

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