Short story by Ramya Srinivasan: ‘AX09 reminded Otto of all things that he hated about the job. All that craving for power had ultimately led to complete powerlessness. The lack of free will. The helplessness of being a puppet in someone else’s hands.’

In interaction with contemporary South Asian art, Jahnabi Mitra asks, how can artists truly help with climate change action? What larger purpose can these works serve? Or do they end up normalizing the dystopic times ahead?

Personal Essay by Karna: ‘I was adept in two subjects demanding two utterly distinct kinds of engagement: one gave me insights into culture, society, language, and human beings; the other perhaps anticipated that I would prefer the mind to the body.’

A personal essay by Mukta Malini: ‘Now, at twenty-one, I draw bodies: bodies that its owner probably hates, but a lover would describe it as squishy, bodies like soggy noodles and bodies like Manda peetha, bodies like sushi.’

Set around the 1919 Jallianwala Bagh massacre, Navtej Sarna’s Crimson Spring is a tragic retelling that details individual lives shattered by this dark chapter in history. By Shreemayee Das

Despite being a flawed film, Aamir Khan’s Laal Singh Chaddha further extends the thesis of the superstar’s life’s work: a pan-India aspiration to live in a better country. By Karan Madhok

Poetry by Aashika Suresh: ‘you arrive at my front door / in dirty jeans and a kurta, clutching / a shovel and a pitchfork.’

Personal Essay by Bharti Bansal: ‘I think I indeed am born in the family of angry, rebellious people who love as strongly as they can. Our loved ones carve paths for each other, or else, how can we ever find where the trail starts and ends?’

Short story by Nandan: ‘“There is no point in all that,” Shankaran lazily shrugged his shoulders, “Anyway, what’s there in a waterfall?’

A poem by Shaurya Pathania: ‘just the sight / of your spit’s spite / being unswallowed / from your throat’

Saurabh Sharma explores the rising wave of propaganda anti-Muslim music on Indian airwaves, songs filled with jingoism, religious bigotry, and xenophobia masquerading as art.

A poem by Ashish Kumar Singh: ‘…even though we have always slept that way, this big word none of us knew the meaning of, made us afraid and we let you bring other hefty men to fix what you said was broken…’