Without Flight
Fiction by Armaan: ‘Your jersey is all sweaty. And your shorts too. It’s stinking up my room. Take it off. / Dilawar’s eyes turned to the door. He felt like if he ran through it, nobody would find him. All he had to do was run.’
Poetry by John Copley Alter: ‘In the proximity / of other gods—other sutras— / we muttered our creed—you // pecking / away at your manual typewriter— / carbon copies of personal letters / home—to the diaspora—we // noodling on the keyboard of happiness’
Featuring dozens of literary conservations, book releases, film screenings, live music, art exhibitions, folk dances, and more, the second edition of LLAF saluted the resolute spirit of the Himalaya. By The Chakkar and Mussoorie Heritage Centre
Fiction by Armaan: ‘Your jersey is all sweaty. And your shorts too. It’s stinking up my room. Take it off. / Dilawar’s eyes turned to the door. He felt like if he ran through it, nobody would find him. All he had to do was run.’
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.’