Sign of the times: Helpless Spectators

I wish I was a poet - with that, I could have unleashed my anguish and anger in verse, writes Humra Quraishi

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The uncertainty of life in the Pandemic

Nanna was tall and erect even at 78 she would complete all postures of namaz, writes Farah Diba Israfil

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At Vanishing Point

As one more beautifully-architected bungalow on Little Gibbs Road bites the dust, Khalid Mohamed writes on the changing face o...

The Scattered Rainbow

Darshan Mondkar has been a social and political commentator since 2010, writes Vinta Nanda in this piece compiled by her. &nbs...

To the story I was born

Aparajita Krishna plunges into her rich past, where there is a paean to her left leaning parents who inhabited India’s r...

Justice for Jayaraj and Fenix

Anupama Mandloi writes that repressed ills of society have begun to boil over from years of subjugation into a world, which is...

Shahryar and those sharks

 “As I stood there, I could see Shahryar walking around. And even as I kept calling out to him, he didn’t respond. Perhaps, di...

When the necktie was described in Hindi as Kant-Lungoth

“They were there

You thought- always in your care

But they grew...

Who is Teesta Setalvad?

She’s simple, strong and she talks straight. She’s also one of the very few among us, who remains c...