Short story by Ushma Shah: ‘There was a pale, mouldy smell around him, and then, Abhi smelled himself. He had a stench, too, mouldy, and woody, and old.’

At the recent Van Gogh 360° event in Mumbai, Bushra Satkhed found inspiration in the trouble artist’s keen eye for the beauty in life.

Poem by Nikhat Jonak: ‘On the pedestal I saw her sit, in temple, / With raging eyes and divine comportment, / And I wondered if she too bleeds’

Growing up in fascination of the Taj Mahal, Babli Yadav meditates on the burdens of passing time, in a letter to the Mughal emperor who built the great mausoleum of love.

Poetry by Shamayita Sen: ‘every passing moon screeching upon / every neighbourhood I inhabit is a reminder of // your absence’

Personal Essay by Poornima Laxmeshwar: ‘Closed doors mean abandonment… only houses where no one resides must be locked. Doors are like hearts... They must let the sunshine and the storm enter, because life is such.’

Short story by Sachin Ravikumar: ‘The pink tabebuia is a picture of quiet grace. It does not impose. Its presence is a welcome respite from a noisy, polluted city perennially draped in tones grey or garish… Was this tree really from here? Were we still in Bangalore?’

Poem by Carol D’Souza: ‘Missing / the wood for the trees. Child. Household. Family / Wielding the holy trifecta as their weapon’

Fiction: “And then whaddayaknow, they did, and here I am, sitting nonchalantly on a park bench on a Wednesday afternoon, half a free man.”

Poem by Ali Ashhar: ‘while he runs into the garden / and hears mellifluous melodies of life / singing to him’

Poetry by Anam Tariq: ‘I run up to place this piece / where the descending snow / spirals into patterns / of stars and visual poetry’

Personal Essay by Shalini Singh: ‘Is time a love story? Maybe time is letterpress printing. A capsule where every printed letter is a love letter to the future. And it’s a letter that doesn’t end with the ink drying or the writer moving away.’