The marginality of indigenous languages has been a defining trope that contests universalist assumptions of literary traditions, and also factors in the unique ethnic and cultural experiences which demand critical evaluation. Language has been a powerful tool for indigenous people
I have struggled all my life to cure this tendency to daydream, lest it should carry me into remote waters. On a boat, rowing through the rose waters of the Sambhar salt lake, passing shimmering cranes and pink flamingoes, I
न्याय न्याय का क्या मज़हब है? न्याय की क्या ज़ात है? क्या सोचे कोई फिर देशभक्त, जो ये भी सोचने की बात है? क्या लाभ है न्यायालयों का जब लिखित में हमे ये ज्ञात है, के अफज़ल की फांसी
dekhna hain, dekhte hain: a ghazal the season to play with colours is always just around the corner how will our good old bharat maa be drenched this time, let us see: white is always the best background for
I really wanted to write a contrarian column this month, upending the critical consensus on the two movies I was going to review. Now, having seen both the movies, I can only conclude that, sometimes, the critics reach a consensus
A figure—a luminous figure that was—moved through a swirling haze of blue steam, ambling on in a seamless slow motion through a passage created by a long but strong chain of policemen; a throng of agitated bodies swayed ceaselessly behind
They say it looks like glass, shining, translucent. Even cuts like glass, or so said Sarojini and her writer husband. Not writer as in someone who works with words. Writers are also supervisors in the coffee plantations of Kodagu,
Once upon a time there was a rajkumar. Rajkumar? You mean a prince? Not a king and a queen? Nope. Just a rajkumar. Interesting…what next? So, as I was saying, once upon a time, there was a rajkumar. His looks?
“It’s me, me, the cursed one, I am guilty!” —Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov I It was the eighth day after my transfer to Lake Police Station, and it was a cold afternoon. I had just returned from
वो दोनों बग़ल की बिल्डिंग में थे। फि़रोज़ सुबह सुबह अपनी किलेरिनेट (clarinet) लेकर, खिड़की के पास बैठ जाता, और मेरी बालकनी की तरफ़ मुंह कर के बजाने लगता—और ये मामूल हो गया था कि झड़प हो, और मैं अपना अख़बार,