Poem by Nikhat Jonak: ‘On the pedestal I saw her sit, in temple, / With raging eyes and divine comportment, / And I wondered if she too bleeds’

Growing up in fascination of the Taj Mahal, Babli Yadav meditates on the burdens of passing time, in a letter to the Mughal emperor who built the great mausoleum of love.

Poetry by Shamayita Sen: ‘every passing moon screeching upon / every neighbourhood I inhabit is a reminder of // your absence’

Shooting to fame after the critical success of Geetanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand, Daisy Rockwell speaks about the iconic Indian authors she has translated, Partition-themed narratives, and interpreting language from a visual eye. By Saurabh Sharma

Extreme climate change and the environmental catastrophe in towns like Joshimath are another reminder for the need of a sustainable, tenable, and all-inclusive model of growth. By Vipin Labroo

Personal Essay by Poornima Laxmeshwar: ‘Closed doors mean abandonment… only houses where no one resides must be locked. Doors are like hearts... They must let the sunshine and the storm enter, because life is such.’

With people spending more time at home post-pandemic, Bindu Gopal Rao tracks the rise of custom art in India: The standard, cookie-cutter work is no longer the preference, as consumers strive for art that reflects their personality and life journey.

Short story by Sachin Ravikumar: ‘The pink tabebuia is a picture of quiet grace. It does not impose. Its presence is a welcome respite from a noisy, polluted city perennially draped in tones grey or garish… Was this tree really from here? Were we still in Bangalore?’

The music of Dev.D—produced by Amit Trivedi—still sounds fresh and imaginative, honouring Indian traditions while pushing the envelope of a global sound, remixing this popular tale with a burst of enigmatic new energy. By Karan Madhok

Poem by Carol D’Souza: ‘Missing / the wood for the trees. Child. Household. Family / Wielding the holy trifecta as their weapon’

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’