I once lost my name in a pyre

As my math grades plummeted, my interest in trombone records skyrocketed

I have built my new tongue from old corpses.

As if it were instinct, you held tightly
to a slim bar of sunlight

I could make it alone
but I don’t want to.

Turns out it, too, wanted
to know more than what the body can do.

when i called him a callas lover ` of coz i meant careless

What time the young man’s life ended, no one knows.

“jota de manila” and “i recognize the silhouette”

The reissue of Amit Chaudhuri’s 1998 novel, Freedom Song, revives a forgotten path for political literature.

There are few men who will communicate with you in all the languages you know.

“Ringu (1998)” and “Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022)”

their oceanic smell that screams where they come from instead of where they are carried to

Kids Bolo brings Urdu to families living in the West.

With a bottle full of chicken blood, she bathed the Lieutenant in red, from head to toe.

God I loved every one of those pigs we ate.

“a feather falls” and “by the river”

birds are a scimitar waiting

now, don’t be fooled
flying isn’t easy

An interview with essayist Nina Sharma