The City Is A Festering Wound: Three poems by Samiksha Ransom
Poetry by Samiksha Ransom: ‘the city is a lacerated arm / hanging loose from a plaster / a red flag made of dupatta’
Short story by Karan Madhok: “Now, Lady, Miss: Please take the flowers and lean into your husband, like this, as if you are falling into him. Just a little. That’s why in English they say, ‘falling’ in love, no? Bas, gir jao unpar!”
What’s in a name? India has a long history of rebranding cities, streets, and buildings to reflect the political influence of the time. Instead of this empty tokenism, Vipin Labroo argues for the country to shift priorities towards its more pressing concerns.
Poetry by Samiksha Ransom: ‘the city is a lacerated arm / hanging loose from a plaster / a red flag made of dupatta’
Creative Nonfiction by Shobhita Rewal: ‘Rotund Japanese purple enlarged. A plushie abandoned. Soot-stained lips float past. Saliva upon the metal in the skin. Chivalry ain’t dead yet, innit? Plebians need the masala but give this to me anyway.’