Archive

By Juhi Srivastava

I've looked at sunsets a little longer than others,
Taking time to perceive the changes in its colours.

By Lekshmi Krishnan

The Summer of Two Sides
Summer is a privilege.
Like surnames, lands and currency notes,
Forte of the fortunate few.

By Diya Kandhari

Amidst the temperamental discourse of dinner table conversation,
Urban vacation,
Unwashed dishes and disagreements

By Subi Kumari

“This world, you know, is concrete. And did I mention cold?” I said laying on the bed. My lower body was inside the black velvety quilt. 

By Ananya Utkarsh

On the seat next to me
is a little girl wearing a cotton frock 
dipped in rainbow dyes with no sleeves. 

By Ashtha Tiwari

The auto had the sound resembling that of an earthquake, and it was responded by my mother coming out from the gate to watch me

By Amrisha Sinha

curled fists fuse themselves
into the warmth 
of clipped grass,
tension easing into loose soil.

By Gayathri Mupparapu

Is a woman's role just being a wife and mother or do we have more to us? In my typical south Indian household

By Poorva 

You don’t know what it is
to be a boy, they say
Damn right!

By Diya Sabharwal

Having been raised in a devout Sikh household, I am, unquestionably, an expert in avoiding hairy situations. 

By Maria Uzma Ansari 

I once threw a date and a tree sprouted
from it, the city celebrated its 378th

By Babra Shafiqi

The inside of my mouth resembles my Baba
I carry him on my tongue 

By Nikita Prabhu

I’m on a three-hour flight from Muscat to Mumbai. Years of visiting ‘home’ have prepared me and my brother for the drill.

By Ananya Gupta

Kicking the threshold of adolescence, this place feels incongruous
Watching my sister grow, my incessant fascination

By Chaitanya Huprikar

goodbye old friend
tumbled mass of faded leather
ingrown inbred into ashen skin
of a cold pallid lazy boy 

By Radhika Agrawal

The bruises from my father’s belt 
Have now faded, but the scars stay.

By Inilash Remot

For days on end I've looked beyond
The tall boundary of an old apartment

By Mrudula Kuvalekar

today i felt small / a giant
inside a giant / inside
another

By Akanksha Patra

26th August 1998 to the first day of spring any year,
died from pollen allergy

By Aayushi Saxena

I am a canvas
not a blank one, no.
blank means fresh, hopeful

By Tina Huang

Cellulite, not the lilac stalactites you see on
Netflix flicks, not the Grainy-Indie-Understated 

By riddhi puranik

they let themselves in with the fleeting innocence of smiles long gone. the foot in the door welcomes the barrage of voices inside.

By Manisha Mishra

One more lipstick
One more shampoo
One more mascara

By Dia Bhojwani

I know what falling looks like
I know it all too well
It’s shadows blooming dark under his eyelids 

By Vaishnavi Sathish

You made me run the whole week.
You’ve tied up the saddles too.

By Caren Mascarenhas 

Changing colours in the hurricane of emotions
Setting apart the wild, free and young.

By Shruti Mungi

Again I think of the lady who frowned at my shoulders too much skin, too much life  she lies trapped in yards and yards of history

By Sanjana Saksena Chandra

Satisfied, I pushed the now heavy cart
to the aisle where shiny bottles called to me 

By Vasudha Bhandari

"Hey, aren't you the girl who smokes by the tapri near office ? You look so different in party gown. You look nice."

By Shivambika Goel

I am a subtle soul wandering by Being searched by lurid skins I am in the silence of a dumb being Searching for voice within