Gower Bhat discusses the advent of coaching schools in Kashmir for competitive exams for University exams, which seem to be replacing real schools. Clickhere to read.
In winters, birds migrate. They face no barriers. The sun also shines across fences without any hindrance. Long ago, the late Nirendranath Chakraborty (1924-2018) wrote about a boy, Amalkanti, who wanted to be sunshine. The real world held him back and he became a worker in a dark printing press. Dreams sometimes can come to nought for humanity has enough walls to keep out those who they feel do not ‘belong’ to their way of life or thought. Some even war, kill and violate to secure an exclusive existence. Despite the perpetuation of these fences, people are now forced to emigrate not only to find shelter from the violences of wars but also to find a refuge from climate disasters. These people — the refuge seekers— are referred to as refugees[1]. And yet, there are a few who find it in themselves to waft to new worlds, create with their ideas and redefine norms… for no reason except that they feel a sense of belonging to a culture to which they were not born. These people are often referred to as migrants.
At the close of this year, Keith Lyons brings us one such persona who has found a firm footing in New Zealand. Setting new trends and inspiring others is a writer called Harry Ricketts[2]. He has even shared a poem from his latest collection, Bonfires on the Ice. Ricketts’ poem moves from the personal to the universal as does the poetry of another migrant, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, aspiring to a new, more accepting world. While Tulip Chowdhury — who also moved across oceans — prays for peace in a war torn, weather-worn world:
I plant new seeds of dreams for a peaceful world of tomorrow.
Fiction in this issue reverberates across the world with Marc Rosenberg bringing us a poignant telling centred around childhood, innocence and abuse. Sayan Sarkar gives a witty, captivating, climate-friendly narrative centred around trees. Naramsetti Umamaheswararao weaves a fable set in Southern India.
A story by Nasir Rahim Sohrabi from the dusty landscapes of Balochistan has found its way into our translations too with Fazal Baloch rendering it into English from Balochi. Isa Kamari translates his own Malay poems which echo themes of his powerful novels, A Song of the Wind (2007) and Tweet(2017), both centred around the making of Singapore. Snehaprava Das introduces Odia poems by Satrughna Pandab in English. While Professor Fakrul Alam renders one of Nazrul’s best-loved songs from Bengali to English, Tagore’s translated poem Jatri (Passenger) welcomes prospectives onboard a boat —almost an anti-thesis of his earlier poem ‘Sonar Tori’ (The Golden Boat) where the ferry woman rows off robbing her client.
We have plenty of non-fiction this time starting with a tribute to Jane Austen (1775-1817) by Meenakshi Malhotra. Austen turns 250 this year and continues relevant with remakes in not only films but also reimagined with books around her novels — especially Pride and Prejudice (which has even a zombie version). Bhaskar Parichha pays a tribute to writer Bibhuti Patnaik. Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan explores ancient Sangam Literature from Tamil Nadu and Ratnottama Sengupta revisits an art exhibition that draws bridges across time… an exploration she herself curated.
We have a spray of colours from across almost all the continents in our pages this time. A bumper issue again — for which all of the contributors have our heartfelt thanks. Huge thanks to our fabulous team who pitch in to make a vibrant issue for all of us. A special thanks to Sohana Manzoor for the fabulous artwork. And as our readers continue to grow in numbers by leap and bounds, I would want to thank you all for visiting our content! Introduce your friends too if you like what you find and do remember to pause by this issue’s contents page.
Wish all of you happy reading through the holiday season!
In the Philippines, ‘maximum tolerance’ refers to peacekeepers practicing a high level of restraint during public gatherings to ensure safety and maintain peace, while law enforcement implements action against violent demonstrators and shows tolerance towards those who are peaceful. Essentially, it means tolerating an individual’s capacity for patience, endurance, and long-suffering in the face of behavioral challenges.
Until now, I have maintained a close relationship with an orphaned nephew of a colleague of mine. Our bond grew stronger when he moved to our church shelter from a nearby mountainous town to live with his uncle. I have always empathised with him, as my family also provided care for fatherless children. The purpose of his relocation was to enable him to complete his college education. He eventually graduated with a degree in computer science from an institution that claims to have an Asian focus, despite lacking a physical campus during the Covid-19 pandemic. Understandably, he struggled to find employment. He returned home to stay with his aunt’s family, patiently waiting for an opportunity to secure a job, which proved to be challenging.
During his studies, we would occasionally meet for meals to discuss the work on his paper requirements before graduation and plan his group thesis. When the pandemic hit, our conversations shifted online, but his willingness to seek my assistance remained strong, and I gladly supported him.
His first job involved selling organic powdered coffee imported from Malaysia at an office in the heart of Quezon City. When the Covid-19 virus spiked, all the company’s employees had to work from home. However, there were times when they were asked to come to the office despite the significant health risk.
My friend refused to do so, which was quite reasonable as he lived with his elderly aunt and uncle. As a result, he was reprimanded and issued a memo for unauthorised leave of absence. I had to help him draft a letter in response to the memo. This situation challenged him to assert his rights as an employee as not every human resource policy is beneficial. At times, companies will test your threshold of tolerance to the limit which is not necessarily wrong. Upon repeated emails that we sent to the HR department, he was finally given his last paycheck months after his resignation.
His next job was as a management trainee for a Canadian-based coffee shop in a mall chain. Coffee shops and fast-food stores often hire college graduates from any field to fill staffing gaps caused by high employee turnover, even if their majors are unrelated to the food industry. Unfortunately, he did not pass the probationary period because he said he was verbally mistreated by the store manager over work principles and practices.
His initial job application at a global fast-food chain was unsuccessful, as he did not receive an interview. He ended up taking a part-time online job at a small pharmaceutical company to earn money for his expenses. After a year of waiting, he was finally invited for a management interview at the same fast-food chain in a city near his hometown. He got the job.
He has been working for the global fast-food chain for over two years now and enjoys his role as a specialist manager due to his interest in computing and ordering items. However, the local store management has not been supportive in terms of taking care of their team. For example, when he had a high-grade fever while working, he was not allowed to go home until the next shift manager arrived, in the midst of a heavy, rainy evening. There was even an instance where he had to attend a management meeting at another store after his graveyard shift.
On a particular rest day after his graveyard shift, he was instructed to attend management classes in a southern city for three days, without being given additional days off to offset his attendance during his rest day. Another schedule required him to report at 2pm after working a graveyard shift. At times, he was also instructed to go to other stores to manage, without any fare allowances. All these cases are documented online. The goal is for the team to hit the sales target at whatever cost and without offering any additional incentives. Even when he had toe-surgery and had to go on sick leave, he was still expected to work from home regarding stock orders. The global fast food chain’s work-life balance policy is only superficial.
Maximum tolerance does not mean to allow individuals, communities, and corporations to exploit us to unimaginable levels, where our self-worth is solely dependent on our output. Outstanding results should be based on a holistic approach that recognises everyone’s basic humanity. Resignation prevails simply because individuals are not allowed to exercise and enjoy their humanness in any circumstances. This should not be the case.
This scenario is not only limited to corporations, but also to religious institutions. In the church that I regularly attend, the resident minister encourages members to be involved in various programs, as leadership should not be dependent on a single individual but on the collective efforts of everyone. However, in doing so, he expects every member to participate in a series of activities all day on Sundays. Sundays, or any Sabbath day, should be a day of spiritual and physical refreshment and renewal. However, with the onslaught of day-long programmes each Sunday, the maximum tolerance of members is tested to the point where most skip events instead of feeling encouraged, as the minister makes them feel guilty. Saying ‘n’o is not a sin of omission.
I look forward to a time when it will be common for business enterprises and social institutions to implement appropriate mechanisms that help individuals to be more human, rather than just robots mindlessly following instructions.
Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specialises in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Art by Henry Tayali(1943-1987). From Public Domain
Let us imagine a world where wars have been outlawed and there is only peace. Is that even possible outside of John Lennon’s song? While John Gray, a modern-day thinker, propounds human nature cannot change despite technological advancements, one has to only imagine how a cave dweller would have told his family flying to the moon was an impossibility. And yet, it has been proven a reality and now, we are thinking living in outer space, though currently it is only the forte of a few elitists and astronomers. Maybe, it will become an accessible reality as shown in books by Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke or shows like Star Trek and Star Wars. Perhaps, it’s only dreamers or ideators pursuing unreal hopes and urges who often become the change makers, the people that make humanity move forward. In Borderless, we merely gather your dreams and present them to the world. That is why we love to celebrate writers from across all languages and cultures with translations and writings that turn current norms topsy turvy. We feature a number of such ideators in this issue.
Nazrul in his times, would have been one such ideator, which is why we carry a song by him translated by Professor Fakrul Alam. And yet before him was Tagore — this time we carry a translation of an unusual poem about happiness. From current times, we present to you a poet — perhaps the greatest Malay writer in Singapore — Isa Kamari. He has translated his longing for changes into his poems. His novels and stories express the same longing as he shares in The Lost Mantras, his self-translated poems that explore adapting old to new. We will be bringing these out over a period of time. We also have poems by Hrushikesh Mallick translated from Odia by Snehprava Das and a poignant story by Sharaf Shad translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch.
Book reviews homes an indepth introduction by Somdatta Mandal to Banu Mushtaq’s Heart Lamp: Selected Stories, translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi. We have a discussion by Meenakshi Malhotra on Contours of Him: Poems, edited and introduced by Malaysian academic, Malachi Edwin Vethamani, in which she concludes, “that if femininity is a construct, so is masculinity.” Overriding human constructs are journeys made by migrants. Rupak Shreshta has introduced us to immigrant Sangita Swechcha’s Rose’s Odyssey: Tales of Love and Loss, translated from Nepali by Jayant Sharma. Bhaskar Parichha winds up this section with his exploration of Kalpana Karunakaran’s A Woman of No Consequence: Memory, Letters and Resistance in Madras. He tells us: “A Woman of No Consequence restores dignity to what is often dismissed as ordinary. It chronicles the spiritual and intellectual evolution of a woman who sought transcendence within the rhythms of domestic life, turning the everyday into a site of resistance and renewal.” Again, by the sound of it a book that redefines the idea that housework is mundane and gives dignity to women and the task at hand.
We wind up the October issue hoping for changes that will lead to a happier existence, helping us all connect with the commonality of emotions, overriding borders that hurt humanity, other species and the Earth.
Huge thanks to our fabulous team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her inimitable artwork. We would all love to congratulate Hughes for his plays that ran houseful in Swansea. And heartfelt thanks to all our wonderful contributors, without who this issue would not have been possible, and to our readers, who make it worth our while, to write and publish.
I grew up in a town where fish, shellfish, and seafood are abundant, so the specialty dishes are related to its topography. The location is humble, yet it boasts special delicacies such as noodles, porridge, tofu, duck eggs, and rice cakes. Many stores line the town’s main street, serving these types of morning and afternoon snacks that I was quite fond of. I particularly remember a store famous for its huge burgers with generous slices of cucumber, tomatoes, and onions on a tangy mayo-ketchup dressing — also popular for its all-day breakfast meals. Despite its marine resources, my hometown has no particular brand associated with it.
A Philippine-based fast-food chain was recently established in the area, and residents claim that development has now been put in place. Consumption is erroneously classified as development. A former English language student mistakenly believed that the Philippines was a wealthy nation because of the abundance of malls, only to realise later that poverty is widespread behind these malls. Consumption is peddled as a sign of progress.
This also happened during my university years when I had to take the elevated rail system to go to school. At the north end point of the train system stood a central grade school on a sprawling campus, which has now been transferred to a much smaller space but is still referred to as a central school. All central schools in our country are located on large campuses. Its original location is now part of a nationwide mall chain. Is going to the mall productive?
Years ago, my younger brother moved to the southernmost province of Luzon Island, which was our father’s hometown. In the past, I would spend holidays at my brother’s residence with some very close friends. The roads are well-paved, and in the city half an hour away, there are small commercial shops and a local fast-food chain unique to the area. The province is well-known for its “pili” nuts and handicrafts.
Pili nutsJewellery from pili nuts From Public Domain
According to my brother, the city’s landscape has drastically changed with the addition of a big mall chain and a Roman-inspired colosseum. My nephew recently informed me that the provincial projects mainly consist of community-based gymnasiums. “Progress” seems to be selective and does not necessarily foster a strong culture of creativity and productivity in each household.
In my current municipality, the main issue is the lack of social infrastructure to support entrepreneurship. The prevailing norm is consumption, whether physical or digital. Bureaucratic red tape makes business mechanisms inaccessible, discouraging newcomers from starting any kind of enterprise.
Perhaps another reason for this lack of visitors is the municipality’s location. Being the last town in the province, only residents and haulers typically come to the area. It is isolated from the main arterial road that traverses the entire province.
The town does not have a specific product to boast of, unlike other cities and municipalities known for their specialties like shoemaking, salted and duck eggs, fish sauce, specialty noodle dishes, and slippers made from water lilies.
The town’s main products are concrete and sand, extracted through continuous quarrying activities that are detrimental to both human health and the environment. Agricultural produce — such as bananas, mangoes, tomatoes, okra, and eggplants — is limited due to the town’s rocky terrain. During a visit to an upland village, I met a caretaker of a small property that was supposed to be organic, but I discovered during our conversation that it was merely a facade by a large mobile phone provider for its social enterprise project. Additionally, the population of native tilapia[1] is low due to murky waters caused by silt and mud. Despite having numerous hiking sites that also cater to consumerist interests, the municipality lacks a distinct specialty dish for people to enjoy and remember as part of its commercial offerings.
According to my sister-in-law’s brother, the main source of income for their island-province is remittances from Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) [2] .He also claims that the province is an ideal place to retire and spend money, boasting beaches, volcanic hot springs, coconut plantations, rice farms, nature resorts, and rivers. Despite having a root-crop based delicacy and an abundance of dried fish, the province lacks production or manufacturing facilities, with the exception of mining, which unfortunately led to one of the worst environmental disasters in the country’s history. As a result, consumption is the prevailing norm on the island. Isn’t it ironic that the ex-girlfriend of a close friend pursued a degree in BS Entrepreneurship but currently works as a Customer Engagement Manager at a global fast-food chain? She should have considered starting her own business, no matter how small. She is actually promoting a perpetual cycle of consumerism, rather than entrepreneurship.
Based on online sources[3], there are only ten small manufacturing firms in my current area, Montalban (Rodriguez), which covers a total land area of 172.65 km 2 (66.66 sq mi)[4]. This implies that a culture of production is not the town’s priority when it should have been the first step to economic and social progress, alongside environmental protection and sustainability.
In hindsight, society generally encourages individuals to consume the latest gadgets, trends, food, technology, shoes, fashion, apps, make-up, and hairstyles. We are therefore told to consume and discard in a never-ending cycle of consumption and waste. Creativity in building enterprise is relegated in favor of a consumerist culture. To move forward, communities must do the reverse, so wealth is neutralized. Not everyone has the business acumen to succeed. However, production must still exceed consumption.
One main reason for the failure of production to establish a strong foothold in our communities could be attributed to the lack of practical and relevant entrepreneurial courses that are accessible to everyone in terms of fees, range, and distance. These courses are not tailored to the specific needs of each locality, as businesses tend to be similar in one area, causing most enterprises to struggle to take off without offering anything unique to attract patrons. Creativity and productivity go hand in hand.
To create a more sustainable society, we need to move away from consumerism and focus on increasing production through manual, mechanical, automated, or digital means. A thriving community relies on its ability to expand and improve production capabilities.
Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specialises in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Naramsetti Umamaheswararao makes up a new fable. Click here to read.
Feature
A review of Jaladhar Sen’s The Travels of a Sadhu in the Himalayas, translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal, and an online interview with the translator. Click here to read.
Autumn Garden by Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890). From Public Domain
September heralds the start of year-end festivities around the world. It’s autumn in one part and spring in another – both seasons that herald change. While our planet celebrates changes, dichotomies, opposites and inclusively gazes with wonder at the endless universe in all its splendour, do we? Festivals are times of good cheer and fun with our loved ones. And yet, a large part of the world seems to be in disarray with manmade disasters wrought by our own species on its own home planet. Despite the sufferings experienced by victims of climate and war-related calamities, the majority will continue to observe rituals out of habit while subscribing to exclusivity and shun change in any form. Occasionally, there are those who break all rules to create a new norm.
One such group of people are the bauls or mendicants from Bengal. Aruna Chakravarti has shared an essay about these people who have created a syncretic lore with music and nature, defying the borders that divide humanity into exclusive groups. As if to complement this syncretic flow, we have Professor Fakrul Alam’s piece on a human construct, literary clubs spanning different cultures spread over centuries – no less an area in which we find norms redefined for, the literary, often, are the harbingers of change.
Mandal, herself, has a brilliant translation featured in this issue. We have a review of her book, an interview with her, and an excerpt from the translation of Jaladhar Sen’s The Travels of a Sadhu in the Himalayas. Written and first published in the Tagore family journal, Bharati, the narrative is an outstanding cultural bridge which even translates Bengali humour for an Anglophone readership. That Sen had a strictly secular perspective in the nineteenth century when blind devotion was often a norm is showcased in Mandal’s translation as well as the stupendous descriptions of the Himalayas that haunt with elegant simplicity.
Our fiction this month seems largely focussed on women’s stories from around the world. While Fiona Sinclair and Erin Jamieson reflect on mother-daughter relationships, Anandita Dey looks into a woman’s dilemma as she tries to adjust to the accepted norm of an ‘arranged’ marriage. Rashida Murphy explores deep rooted social biases that create issues faced by a woman with a light touch. Naramsetti Umamaheswararao brings in variety with a fable – a story that reflects human traits transcending gender disparity.
The September issue would not have been possible without contributions of words and photographs by many of you. Huge thanks to all of you, to the fabulous team and to Sohana Manzoor, whose art has become synonymous with our journal. And our heartfelt thanks to our wonderful readers, without who the effort of putting together this journal would be pointless. Thank you all.
By Jun A. Alindogan… also known as Manuel A, Alindogan
Lines from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare(1564-1616) From Public Domain
When I was in kindergarten, the only name I knew was Jun. So when my teacher called me by my full name, I didn’t respond at all.
Obviously, I was named after my father and am the second child in a brood of four. Many acquaintances actually mistake my name for Emmanuel. I don’t know why my grandparents named my father Manuel, but it might be attributed to common influences in the community, not necessarily based on a desired dream or a definite meaning. My grandfather was from Fujian, China, as were many other Chinese migrants to the Philippines. It is presently common for Filipino Chinese to have Filipino surnames, which could be traced back to the Spanish regime in the Philippines when conversion to Catholicism entailed getting a godparent to sponsor one’s last name.
Although my surname has its Tagalog root, which means alluring or captivating, my facial features are predominantly Chinese despite being just a quarter Chinese. According to my mom, I got my habit of heavy toothbrushing from my father. My dentist told me that I inherited my yellowish and strong teeth from my dad. According to stories, my grandmother, Isadora, was from Tondo, Manila, who I presume, had some Chinese roots too as her maiden name was Gubangco.
While teaching at a special speech school in Manila, I met a student from Capiz province whom I got to know better through some conversations on a bus heading to a southern suburb. She asked me about my middle name, which is Arnaldo, and mentioned that my roots might have a tendril from her province. She also noted that in addition to Roxas City, there is an Arnaldo City in the province. Similarly, there is a highway named Arnaldo in General Trias, Cavite province. However, our Arnaldo clan is from Bulacan province, so I am not sure if we have relatives who migrated to Capiz or if it is the other way around.
It is interesting to note that my grandfather had only one sibling. They shared two last names, which were Arnaldo Cruz. These names were not to be mistaken for middle and last names, as is the legal order of our names. From some information I received from my cousins, I discovered that my grandfather decided to only have one last name, so he adopted Arnaldo, while his brother took on Cruz. In Spanish, arnaldo means powerful as an eagle.
Our Arnaldo clan is large, as my mother had twelve siblings, with one dying shortly after birth. All of my uncles’ first names ended with the letter O, while two of my aunts shared the same last letter, A, in their first names as my mom. I do not have information about my grandfather’s brother and whether he had a large family as well. However, I do know that my mom and her siblings were close to their first cousins, who mostly lived in a village in Tondo, Manila.
One of their cousins worked in theatre, sharing the last name Arnaldo, for many years until his passing. My second cousin, whose maiden name is also Arnaldo, is a seasoned actress for television and movies. Another nephew who shares the same last name, Arnaldo, owns a boutique in Makati and is a fashion designer. His father was a village captain (Barangay Chairman) in Tondo. I am a freelance writer with a creative non-fiction portfolio. I do not know if talent is innate, but I believe it is a gift that needs to be consistently nourished and shared. Each family has its own unique talent, origin, and destination.
A former movie actress, who used to be known by her maiden name Arnaldo, has now become a nun and has turned her back on films. However, we are not related. She was also an environmentalist. Perhaps we are all connected in some way, but as time and tradition fade away, we cannot definitively identify these physiological and social elements.
When I moved to a residence uphill a few decades ago, the municipal mayor’s last name was Cuerpo. Residents claimed he was originally from Nueva Ecija, the province next to Bulacan. Recently, I discovered that two last names were common during our grandparents’ time. I learned about this during annual visits to our family tomb in Obando, my hometown. My grandmother had a brother whom we fondly called Lolo (grandfather) and was a good painter. I remember a porch at their house with a concrete wall painted with fish, shells, and other marine life. His name was Eliseo, but we knew him by his nickname Sayong. On our family tomb, his death marker shows his full name as Eliseo Cuerpo Cruz Enriquez. Does this mean that we are remotely related to the previous town mayor of my current residence? Her daughter recently started a political career and won as the number one councilor in our just-concluded national and local government elections. It would be great to have a conversation with her about her family origins. Cuerpo means body in Spanish.
In my first teaching job at a high school in my province in the late 80s, I had the opportunity, along with my colleagues, to visit the ancestral house of the then-municipal mayor, former mayor Tito Enriquez of Bulakan, Bulacan, on his birthday. His house reminded me of the Alindogan ancestral house, also known as Bahay na Bato (stone house), where the ground floor was used for firewood storage, free-range chicken, and other household items. I suspect that we may be related, as my grandmother was also from Bulacan, but from a different municipality, Baliwag. I recall attending a large family reunion of the Arnaldo-Enriquez clan in the same town during my childhood, which rarely occurs now since all of my mom’s siblings have passed away. In my first year of teaching, I was too timid to inquire or discuss my ancestry with the mayor. “Enriquez” means “son of Enrique” in Spanish. According to history, the Enriquez family of Bulakan, Bulacan, were prominent heroes in the Battle of San Rafael[1].
Not everyone has the opportunity to observe, identify, and understand family connections from the past and present, but it is always a good idea to remember where we come from. This can perhaps help us navigate our present and future destinations more clearly.
[1] Fought between the Spanish and the Filipinos in 1896
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Manuel A. Alindogan, Jr. or Jun A. Alindogan is the Academic Director of the Expanded Alternative Learning Program of Empowered East, a Rizal-province based NGO in the Philippines and is also the founder of Speechsmart Online that specializes in English test preparation courses. He is a freelance writer and a member of the Freelance Writers’ Guild of the Philippines (FWGP).
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Nazrul’s Jonomo, Jonomo Gelo(Generations passed) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read and listen to a rendition by the famed Feroza Begum.
Ajit Cour‘s short story, Nandu, has been translated from Punjabi by C Christine Fair. Click here to read.
The Scarecrowby Anwar Sahib Khan has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.
Naramsetti Umamaheswararao moulds children’s perspectives. Click here to read.
Notes from Japan
In American Wife,Suzanne Kamata gives a short story set set in the Obon festival in Japan. Click here to read.
Conversation
Neeman Sobhan, author of Abiding City: Ruminations from Rome, discusses shuttling between multiple cultures and finding her identity in words. Click here to road.
Borderless 