By Sneha Sudha Komath Dark clouds had been gathering overhead for the past couple of days. My mother stood in our backyard watching them grow. No doubt a massive storm was gathering. She had already sensed the change in the wind. The retreating monsoon was riding on something much stronger this time. My father returned…
Category: TWI Monsoon Issue
Eight Almosts
By Riya Rajayyan i) The taste of leftover hope is like raw melted honey with hints of bittersweet notes dripping. I find leftover hope and almosts in many places these days, when Amma arranges her sarees and smiles at the memories at the windowsill, almost finding her old self back. ii) When I see people…
The Tea Pot
By Gita Viswanath I let my life sit in a teapoton the window sillone grey evening. Three long stridesUp and downWas all that the room allowed. Cracking my knucklesDid I paceWith bated breath. Finally, he ambled inHis laughter mingling with theMid-range of Johnny Cash. My heart fluttered like the wet wings of a birdThe Darjeeling’s…
“As I sit by the window…”
By Zeba Kazi As I sit by the window and watch the rain turn into a drizzle, Ican’t help but think about the seasons that pass. Soon monsoonwith its puddles of water and grey skies will give way to winter.With winter will come the memories of us sitting in the balconydrinking tea and holding the…
Taking Root
By Sandra Ngo “I realized that war was monstrous. If it didn’t kill those it touched, it took away a piece of their souls, so they could never be whole again.”― Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai, The Mountains Sing Our mothers were birthedin emerald green and clay dust,the land of ruby dragonfruit.The first sister arrived on…
Gulmohar, When it Rains
By Devika Mathur The shades of skin- glowing like April morningsa soft warm tone of Gulmohar tree upon my eyelids-a doorway to oceans, two pebble eyesOpen in the open skyThis tree a meteor of clouds to my mindto remind me of Earth, soil and home. Rains: a thunder of God’s voice Gulmohar tree- pockets of…
Fish, With a Dash of Lime
By Debnita Chakravarti When the first few dropsFall through the cracked coverOf the enamel potWhere the fish lie dyingThey freeze. For a moment.Then fins fan upAnd gills gasp outThe tails thrash hardAs they jostle aroundSeeking the wet world;Their moss-green glideThrough cool dark depths,Of the village pondBefore they were encircledIn enamel agony, bare and dry.Untimely rain…
Unknotting
By Basudhara Roy I open the heart’s cage and let fly a hundred pigeons into the endless sky, the impatient beating of their wings a reminder that under the shroud of silence, life’s restlessness still lives and the flesh, flawed and frail as it is, is wooed to raptures by a single spell of rain….
Three Poems by Sayan Aich Bhowmik
In Her Sleep Your shirt buttonsIn my handsTurn like the planets.Around themA ring ofAll my evening skies.I can only see thingsThrough cracked window panes.The rains wait for meBy blinking traffic lightsAnd have left the carsWaiting for the policeTo rescue them from the flood.In your cityThey auction off summer eveningsAt the behest of thoseWho gaze at…
The Woman Inc. 