Written with understated, sublime beauty, Sarvesh Wahie’s Mussoorie Daze (2025) is a literary and philosophical text that examines the ontology of a lost Himalayan paradise, and the changing character of memory, self, solitude, and community. By Abhimanyu Kumar

Poems by Agni Barathi: ‘What impossible simile / will suffice, my love, / to sing of my real, utter ruin?’

Poetry: ‘Things lying around, still, cautious / Tell-tale signs, of nothing / Butter, a knife and a pen / A diary of poems now lost’

Poem by Maansi Sharma: ‘the rabbit on my foot, startled like the river, / coursing through the bed, giggling at our feet. / there is soup and bread and tea and honey for the quiet ache. / we don’t need to eat god for breakfast.’

Poems by Meenakshi Jauhari: ‘It has all been done – she has aged, and arrived, / and, one day, will leave. / Her day passes, and leaves behind no residue. / Her night weaves a starry reality she remembers briefly, for a few / waking moments. Then it too evaporates, leaving no trace.’

Poetry by Kamakshi Lekshmanan: ‘a man influences a knife, sways the auburn twigs. gentle and soft. // the heap of brunet lay aside, / besides a pair of eyes submit – in gratitude.’

Poems by Laila Brahmbhatt: ‘On the city’s edge, where destiny echoes, / hope crawled through cracks. / Even roses in New Delhi / orphan their thorns.’

Poem by Hiranmayi Krishnakumar: ‘There’s a chair by the window / waiting for someone who doesn’t arrive / in this version. / The cushion sinks on its own. / It has good memory foam. / The fan spins like it’s trying to erase the century.’

Poetry by Mary Tina Shamli Pillay: ‘Pressured through the / mist, we are tormented / by the sharp blue sky, / the muffled din of a / wailing child, the crackle / of a hostess, the wrapping / unwrapping of smiles.’

Poetry by Devika Mathur: ‘Curtains fall from dawn to dusk. / A river to see her face. / Shining clouds bring flowers to her. / An admirer of nightingales and lanterns.’ 

Poetry by Paromita Patranobish: ‘A comet catches fire, she knows / It is her plexus exhaling / The ghost of trauma, / This is the closest she will / Come to maternity’

Poetry by Jyotish Chalil Gopinathan: ‘Pressing my ear to the ground / straining to hear / the universe speak. / The faintest tremor / of the butterfly wing’