Thoroughfare
Personal essay by Sreelekha Chatterjee: ‘I had a habit of waking up at the slightest disturbance in the surroundings. In the wavering streetlight coming from the open doors at both ends of the room, there were silhouettes of ghastly figures shortening and lengthening.’
Poems by Aardhra Chandran: ‘Concrete trucks rumble past his fence, shaking the loose teeth / in his jaw, spitting black diesel smoke onto his holy basil plant. // He measures his life not in years, but in missing trees—/The neem chopped for wood, the mango that died of thirst.’