On the refractive indices of words: The poetry of Sridala Swami
In his review of Sridala Swami’s collection Run for the Shadows (2021), Saurabh Sharma celebrates a poet whose ‘craft is like a prism, from which white light disperses into colourful bands’
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.’