Malovika Mukerji

Just why do I scratch out these impotent words deface such immaculately virginal paper? Words are neither bread nor water syllables do not give shelter. Why then? Outside my window an exploding India cataclysms of nature, rape in the estuary heavings [...]

Circumspect, moon-white, an artifact of fear, rooted in sinister country five miles out of Jhansi, a resthouse, carelessly abandoned by the British. By day, desolate grasses blew, globed fruit dropped heavily to the ground; by night, the aged careta [...]