Fiction by Mandira Mitra Chakraborty: ‘I try not to behave like my mother and accept a session of pedicure without making it about civilization and its discontents. I am in no hurry to die, but I shall go quietly when He comes.’

Photo Essay by Abin Chakraborty: ‘Kolkata is a kaleidoscope: turn your gaze and a new pattern will emerge. What you wish to see is therefore a combination of what you want to see and what your gaze is capable of perceiving.’

Fiction by Ayaan Halder: ‘We tell each other that she must’ve found her peace. But her memory trickles down to my fist, and it feels heavier. As if it were carrying the slow-congealed weight of all the blood that you and I have drawn from each other.’

‘I board a bus to Biswabangla, wearing a grey shade, mask, olive hibiscus t-shirt, lemon green hair band, loose crimson brown hair, mild sweat, and the will of forgetting.’ By Sufia Khatoon

Poetry by K.S. Subramanian: ‘In a year its ambience malodorous / Inch of space making way to concrete. / Green unseated by thick red brick’

Fiction by Tansy Troy: ‘It is his image which comes to me now, teaching me mastery over illusion, instructing me how to transform my present suffering into future fortune. When we met him in the flesh, he blessed me with the name Tashi Tsomo. Auspicious feminine ocean.’

‘I had only met Jumma briefly the year before, while Helene knew neither of them before that night. Yet, for us, this kind couple was willing to undergo the supreme sacrifice and give us the most precious thing in their lives: their beloved son.’ By Stephen P. Huyler

Fiction by A.G. Malavika: ‘Jinu took a deep breath and mentally steeled herself for the task ahead. They were diving into a murky world of grief, deceit, and hidden truths. And she knew that only their unyielding determination and intuition would guide them through this labyrinth.’

Essay by Tansy Troy: ‘As arresting now as when first sculpted, Navjot’s contemplation of the feminine form is no less contemporary, no less urgent to consider than when she created the red-and-blue lady thirty years ago.’

Fiction by Sakkho Goon: ‘Five years passed since that day. She wiped her tears when she saw him wear his father’s shoes. She was quiet as he boarded the cab to go to the airport. She read his letters but never sent a reply.’

Extract from the work of Mir Taqi Mir: Mir’s poetry abounds in bawdiness, the pain and enjoyment of life, instances of homosexuality, Sufi themes, close and wise observation of the world, and insistence on man’s dignity. Translated by: Shamsur Rahman Faruqi

Fiction by Aditi Chandrasekar: ‘She rubs the soap over her arms, her legs, her chest, then squeezes a dollop of shampoo and conditioner onto her palms before rubbing and lathering it on her hair. She wonders if this is what makes Shruti’s hair so luscious. Then, she thinks about Gagan, and wonders how many times they’ve showered together in this bathroom.’