Fiction: “And then whaddayaknow, they did, and here I am, sitting nonchalantly on a park bench on a Wednesday afternoon, half a free man.”

Poem by Ali Ashhar: ‘while he runs into the garden / and hears mellifluous melodies of life / singing to him’

Aniruddha Mahale—author of Get Out: The Gay Man’s Guide to Coming Out and Going Out—discusses his crush on Rahul Khanna, lying to his dates, sending nudes, and the socio-economic aspects of gay dating in India. By Chintan Girish Modi

Whimsical and wise, reflective and poignant, Nivedita Dey poems are a contrast to the gloomy poetry of our age, even while delving into the darkest recesses. She passionately declares space for poetry’s possibilities and promises. By Dustin Pickering

Poetry by Anam Tariq: ‘I run up to place this piece / where the descending snow / spirals into patterns / of stars and visual poetry’

Personal Essay by Shalini Singh: ‘Is time a love story? Maybe time is letterpress printing. A capsule where every printed letter is a love letter to the future. And it’s a letter that doesn’t end with the ink drying or the writer moving away.’

From the happy chorus of ‘Desi trick or treat’ singers to the problematic lyrics in folk classics, Deepansh Duggal takes a deep dive to explore the cultural significance of Punjabi Lohri music in contemporary times.

Nusrat Ahmed—curator of the South Asia Gallery at Manchester Museum—spoke about the complicated history of colonial artefacts in British museums, the importance of preserving history through art, and the impact she hopes the gallery will have for future generations. By Karan Madhok

In a tribute to her hometown, Yashnashree presents an alphabet of hope for Patna, an A-Z from the amaltas to ‘hum’ and from Nalanda to ‘yaari’.

A poem by Mitra Samal: ‘Your poem seemed like a dream / hiding under the warmth of / your breath, in the chillness of winter.’

A poem by Sayani Mukherjee: ‘Leftovers for the first time / Syrupy sweet nectarine smudged / Odours of sweet remembrance’

Short story by Michelle D’costa: ‘A man had overdosed that day. Jude remembers the tattoo on the OD guy’s bicep: A dragon spitting fire which held three symbols, Om, a cross, and a star cradled in a crescent moon.’