Fiction
Boys Like That by Kuzhali Manickavel Boys like that are ugly babies. They smile at everyone and offer wilted flowers to tables and plastic chairs. Nobody picks them up unless it is an absolute...
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what it’s like to be sri lankan in 2012 for those of you who aren’t by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha It’s going home to Jaffna if you’re young, Tamil and male and not automatically being snatched by...
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Flying Saucers by Mamta Nainy I took the glistening black vinyl out of its sleeve, removed the dust wrap, placed it on the turntable. … Lost in the grooves of these long-playing records is the history...
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Freedom Colour by Sanchari Sur … moments where the “play” that arises from the festival allows for a freedom of transgression between caste, class, and gender lines in India. Indo-Caribbean by Preston...
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Fasting for Ramadan by Kazim Ali Reviewed by Rita Banerjee In trying to grasp and define the contours of his own spirituality, Ali comes to some of the most startling and refreshing conclusions about...
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Ask the Unicorns by Minal Hajratwala A spoonful of hot ghee is nothing like unicorn blood; and yet it is a way of extending the life of the butter. … Now I’m going to tell you the secret to immortality.
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Why Jaggery? by Mary Anne Mohanraj The publishing world often tries to put its writers into boxes: easily-marketable boxes. You can’t really blame them, in some sense—it’s much easier to create a shelf...
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The Best Medicine by Priyank Mathur When she’d sense her husband’s hand rising to hit her, she’d finally look up, her pupils would dilate, her hands would stop shaking and she’d breathe a sigh of...
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Foreigner by Rachael Bates I am seasoned to India’s chaos, the caterwauling horns, the maddening smells that make me scrunch my face against a waft of sewage one moment and fill my lungs with tandoori...
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One Man Two Executions by Arjun Rajendran Reviewed by Kinshuk Gupta Merging history and poetry! Flowers on the Grave of Caste by Yogesh Maitreya Reviewed by Kiran Bhat Storyteller with firm social...
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A Birdsong by Aiswarya Garlapati someone stole her voice on a moving bus. suddenly the city stops churning, and stares. Disengaged by Thushanthi Ponweera pungent with the smell of alcohol that you, we,...
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