Seated among old paintings, clocks, clothing, trinkets, and valuables, 76-year-old Hamiz Rizwi maintains a kaleidoscopic antique shop in Lucknow, revealing new stories with every glance. By Ishita Yadav
Poetry by Saoirse: ‘let us build a night on the marble edifice / of silence. Spread freshly laundered sheets / over the freckled sky and light / the twin candles of our bodies.’
Personal Essay by multidisciplinary artist Ravi Modi: ‘Truth, I came to realise, is fluid, shapeshifting, dusty, incomplete. It never arrives whole. It gathers slowly, the way vision does, through fragments and adjustments. Much like my own sight, truth is always in the process of becoming.’
Personal Essay by Prachi Sharma: ‘My father pauses in every retelling of this tale. He wants me to see it. A man in the uniform of an Indian working for the English, in a village courtyard in the late 1920s, his face turning to one side from the force of an open palm. The villagers watching. The Daroga’s hand going to his cheek. A pigeon somewhere on the roof, taking off.’