The prompt is inspired by Ilya Kaminsky's Poem 'We lived happily during the War' The women in my family are without a home by Pritha Jain the women in my family are disgraced artists weeping into the after-hours but never once repenting their crimes enough. a haloed moon drools and watches in waning silence as their vermillion digs a sharpened claw into the fault lines of their foreheads. curses rot at the peripheries of dadi's face as she spits them back at her husband durin

by Anushri Muthusamy “The city is an organized memory, and in history, women are the forgotten” - Hannah Arendt You are given a land and you’re asked to build a town, village, or city from scratch, What comes to your mind? The roads? The street lights? Buildings and bridges? Where to locate trees and, problematically, where to cut them for your new skyscrapers? Administrative offices? Houses? The film Nomadland nudges the notion ‘A house is not a home’ What does it mean? Some

Artwork by Dheeraj Kumar 1. The little kid and the woman he kept inside. I wanted to write about that little kid who bloomed his own flower on his hand by practicing "Ma, I want to be a woman" I remember being in the hands of my mother when she applied mehendi on her hands. She used to draw a moon on my hands and told me "This is who you are." Ma knew, I am learning to be kind like her, ma knew I want to hold that mehendi but was scared to convey, ma knew love has always been