Blog

By Dyondra Wilson

Walking home from work today, I saw a Korean woman setting up flowers at the back of her truck.

By Varisha Abdullah

Mama’s love for shopping was unconditional and mine, for her. So, on each trip to
the market...

By Ananya Sahoo

I live on the most peculiar street in the world,
A pretty bubble if you may...

By Harsha Sewani

I gaze outside the window,
as the sun conceals behind the clouds.

By Navneet Bahri

Bracketed by a million beginnings and endings
Born of bondage to approval and praise

By Nikunj Agnihotri

Bubbling with a childish enthusiasm in the air.
Is letting the innocent, the small black shadows

By Akshita Sharma

To hold on to a tether firm enough
To shoulder her aching heart.

By Prarthi Dholakia

It’s funny how my parents named me Bindu because I am a boy and boys are supposed to be named...

By Kamakshi Farswan

Sitting next to the car’s window, with her head resting on the door, she was admiring the view outside.

By Naphilakmen Syiemlieh

Packed with cacophony,
The hustle - bustle of the streets never seems to end

By Ada

Her energy is beyond her own league,
she has a spirit of bird,
she has the innocence of rabbit

By Rishika Kaushik

I’m not a morning person but I woke up early one day,
I used to think the moon holds secrets

By Karna Pandey

I sought wings and get chained to the sky
for the birds are free is a lie & a lie

By Aditi Shukla

I have been a woman
Since when thy use to
Hide us in houses

By Additya Kar

I recently heard this from my brother that today's world is nothing but people full of sarcasm and humour.

By Dr. Sachidananda Panda

Was one such act of valor, out of many
We paid for freedom, as a nation sovereign

By Kartikey Tripathi

Films, when reading against the grain as cinematic texts, can reveal vehicles of a particular ideological dispensation.

By NEHA BAXLA

“Grandnan wake up, we have so many preparations to do, you can’t be sleeping like an old lady”

By Preeti Rungta

As I look at that bird
Flying higher in the sky

By Pratibha Dubey

The smooth and grey shiny street
Falling on the wet road is the sparkling light

By Pragati Sharma

A cramped, crowded place,

Where the poor transit on footpath's base

By Poorvika Subramaniam

Her soiled pallu wrapped around

Her frizzly hair with streaks of grey.

By Pooja Chandrakar

Drawing plain flowers, eating sour limes.

Standing under banyans, thinking they were pines.

By Pallav Natraj

It was raining early in the morning, a good excuse for me for not going to school.

By Nisha Shaw

One morning, my son asked me, “Daabu, who says the kite is free? Look it’s got a string.”

By Nidhi Deswal

to divorce what they know
to know what's beyond

By Nidhi Rawat

To whatever Karma suits;

This path remains the memoire recruits

By Namrada Varshini

My womanhood weighs me down
like I'm iron chained and flung into the ocean

By Naina

He had to endure destiny's rage.
What was actually his mistake?