Tag: Kailash Satyarthi

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Contents

Borderless, March 2026

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Is Sky the Limit?… Click here to read.

Feature

A brief introduction to Aruna Chakravarti’s Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories and an interview with the author. Click here to read.

Translations

Nazrul’s lyrics of Mor Priya Hobe Eso Rani (My Sweetheart, Be My Queen) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Eight quatrains by the late Majeed Ajez have been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Four of his own Malay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.

Open Marriage, a story by Lakhvinder Virk, has been translated from Punjabi by C Christine Fair. Click here to read.

Jatra ( Journey), a poem by Rabindranath Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Jared Carter, Tim Tomlinson, Mohul Bhowmick, Nma Dhahir, Laila Brahmbhatt, George Freek, Lana Hechtman Ayers, Pramod Rastogi, John Grey, Snigdha Agrawal, Edward Reilly, Ron Pickett, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Snehaprava Das, SR Inciardi, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Rhysop’s Fables, Rhys Hughes shares short absurdist narratives. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

Imprints from the Past

Farouk Gulsara muses on imprints left in time. Click here to read.

When Meassurement Fails

Tamara-Lee Brereton-Karabetsos muses on numbers. Click here to read.

How I Learned to Write from Films

Gower Bhat writes about the impact of the screen on his writerly journey. Click here to read.

Launching into the New Year

Meredith Stephens writes of a fire on the night of the New Year, a hot summer day in the Southern Hemisphere. Click here to read.

Visiting an Outpost of Lucknow: Moosa Bagh

Prithvijeet Sinha takes us to visit an eighteenth century garden and monument. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Missing the Tail, Devraj Singh Kalsi dreams with a dollop of humour on the benefits of humans having the extension. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In My Cambodian Taxi Driver, Suzanne Kamata writes of her experiences in Phnom Penh. Click here to read.

Essays

March Musings: Rethinking Histories

Meenakshi Malhotra writes of the diverse ways histories can be viewed, reflecting on the perspective from the point of view of water, climate, migrations or women. Click here to read.

Some Changes are Bigger than Others

Keith Lyons assess our times. Click here to read.

Somdatta Mandal on ‘Mother Mary Comes to Me’

Somdatta Mandal steps beyond the review to look into the marketing of Arundhati Roy’s memoir. Click here to read.

Mark Tully: A Citizen of the World

Mohul Bhowmick pays a tribute to a journalist who transcended borders. Click here to write.  

Bhaskar’s Corner

In Odisha after 1947, Bhaskar Parichha brings us up to date with developments in this region. Click here to read.

Stories

The Wedding

Sohana Manzoor explores the razzmatazz of a Bangladeshi wedding to find what really matters. Click here to read.

Two Black Dresses

Jonathon B Ferrini gives a narrative that has a beam of light in a universe filled with losses. Click here to read.

Flying Away

Terry Sanville writes of death, growing up and healing from loss. Click here to read.

Whispers of Frost

Gower Bhat tells us a story set in Kashmir. Click here to read.

Ameya’s Victory

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao tells us a story that could happen in any school. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Aruna Chakravarti’s Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Kailash Satyarthi’s Karuna: The Power of Compassion. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Mohammad Asim Siddiqui has reviewed Anisur Rahman’s The Essential Ghalib. Click here to read.

Rituparna Khan has reviewed Malashri Lal’s Signing in the Air. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Deepta Roy Chakraverti’s Daktarin Jamini Sen: The Life of British India’s First Woman Doctor. Click here to read.

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Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

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Editorial

Is Sky the Limit?

Sometimes, we have an idea, a thought and then it takes form and becomes a reality. That is how the Borderless Journal came to be six years ago while the pandemic raged. The pandemic got over and takeovers and wars started. We continued to exist because all of you continue to pitch in, ignoring the differences created by certain human constructs. We meet with the commonality of felt emotions and aesthetics to create a space for all those who believe in looking beyond margins. We try to erase margins or borders that lead to hatred, anger, violence and war. Learning from the natural world, we believe we can be like the colours of the rainbow that seem to grow out of each other or the grass that is allowed to grow freely beyond manmade borders. If nature gives us lessons through its processes, is it not to our advantage to conserve what nurtures us, and in the process, we save our home planet, the Earth? We could all be together in peace, enjoying nature and nurture, living in harmony in the Universe if only we could overlook differences and revel in similarities.

A young poet Nma Dhahir says it all in her poem that is a part of our journal this month —

This is how we stay human together:
by refusing the easy damage, by carrying each other
without calling it sacrifice,
by believing that what we protect in one another
eventually protects the world.

--'How We Stay’ by Nma Dhahir

In our poetry section, we have Ron Pickett suggesting peace and love with his poem on three doves on a roof and Snigdha Agrawal hinting at a future Earth. We have heartfelt poetry weaving in the colours of life with Jared Carter, Tim Tomlinson, Mohul Bhowmick, Laila Brahmbhatt, George Freek, Lana Hechtman Ayers, Pramod Rastogi, John Grey, Edward Reilly, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Snehaprava Das, SR Inciardi and Ryan Quinn Flanagan while Rhys Hughes weaves in humour.

Translations has more poetry with Professor Fakrul Alam bringing us Nazrul’s Bengali lyrics in English and Fazal Baloch familiarising us with beautiful Balochi poetry of the late Majeed Ajez, a young poet who left us too soon. Isa Kamari translates his own poems from Malay, capturing the colours of the community in Singapore to blend it with a larger whole. And of course, we have a Tagore poem rendered into English from Bengali. This time it’s a poem called ‘Jatra (Journey)’ which reflects not only on social gaps but also on politics through aeons.

Christine C Fair has translated a story from Punjabi by Lakhvinder Virk, a story that reflects resilience in women who face the dark end of social trends, a theme that reverberates in Flanagan’s poetry and Meenakshi Malhotra’s essay, which while reflecting on the need of different perspectives in histories – like water and nomads — peeks into the need to recall women’s history aswell. This is important not just because March hosts the International Women’s Day (IWD) but because one wonders if women in Afghanistan are better off now than the suffragettes who initiated the idea of such a day more than a century ago?

This time our non-fiction froths over with scrumptious writings from across continents. Tamara-Lee Brereton-Karabetsos muses on looking at numbers and beyond to enjoy the essence of nature. Farouk Gulsara ideates about living on in posterity through deeds and ideas. Gower Bhat shares how he learns story writing skills from watching movies. Meredith Stephens talks of her experience of a fire in the Australian summer. Bhaskar Parichha writes with passion about his region, Odisha. We have a heartfelt tribute to Mark Tully, who transcended borders, from Bhowmick. And an essay on Arundhati Roy’s memoir, Mother Mary Comes to Me, from Somdatta Mandal, which explores not just the book but also the covers which change with continents. Prithvijeet Sinha travels beyond Lucknow and Suzanne Kamata brings to us stories about her trip to Phnom Penh.

Keith Lyons draws from the current crises and writes about changing times, suggesting: “Changes aren’t endings, but thresholds.” Perhaps, if we see them as ‘thresholds of change’, the current events are emphasising the need to accept that human constructs can be redefined. I am sure a Neolithic or an Australopithecus would have been equally scared of evolving out of their system to one we would deem ‘superior’. Life in certain ways can only evolve towards the future, even if currently certain changes seem to be retrogressive. We can never correctly predict the future… but can only imagine it. And Devraj Singh Kalsi imagines it with a dollop of humour where tails become a trend among humans again!

Humour and absurdity are woven into a series of short fables by Hughes while Naramsetti Umamaheswarao weaves a fable around acceptance of differences. In fiction, we have stories of resilience from Jonathon B Ferrini and Terry Sanville. Bhat gives us a story set in Kashmir and Sohana Manzoor gives us one set in Dhaka, a narrative that reminds one of Jane Austen… and perhaps even an abbreviated version of the 2001 film, Monsoon Wedding.

In reviews we have, Mohammad Asim Siddiqui discussing Anisur Rahman’s The Essential Ghalib. Rituparna Khan has written on Malashri Lal’s poetry collection reflecting on women, Signing in the Air. And Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Deepta Roy Chakraverti’s Daktarin Jamini Sen: The Life of British India’s First Woman Doctor, a book that reflects on the resilience that makes great women. Thus, weaving in flavours of the IWD, which applauds women who are resilient while urging humans for equal rights for one half of the world population.

Book excerpts host Kailash Satyarthi’s Karuna: The Power of Compassion and Aruna Chakravarti’s Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories. We are also running a feature on the latter collection with Chakravarti telling us why she switched from historical fiction to ghost stories. The interesting thing is many of her ghouls are embedded in histories where they suffered violences, which leads us to the bigger question, can human suffering dehumanise us? Should it?

While we ponder on larger realities, Borderless Journal looks forward to a future with more writings centred around humanity, climate change, our planet and all creatures great and small. This year has not only seen a rise in readership and contributors — and the numbers rose further after our unsolicited Duotrope listing in October 2025 — but has also attracted writers from more challenged parts of the world, like Ukraine, Iran, Tunisia and Kurdistan. We are delighted to home writing from all those who attempt to transcend borders and be a part of the larger race of humanity. I would like to quote Margaret Atwood to explain what I mean. “I hope that people will finally come to realize that there is only one ‘race’—the human race—and that we are all members of it.” And I would like to extend her view to find solidarity with all living beings. I hope that there will be a point in time when we will realise there’s not much difference between, a lizard, a fly, a human or a tree… All these lifeforms are necessary for our existence.

I would want to hugely thank all our team for stretching out and making this a special issue for our sixth anniversary and Manzoor for her fabulous artwork. Huge thanks to all our contributors and readers for being with us through our journey. Let’s change the world with peace, love and friendship!

Looking forward to the future.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

CLICK HERE TO ACCESS THE CONTENTS FOR THE MARCH 2026 ISSUE.

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READ THE LATEST UPDATES ON THE FIRST BORDERLESS ANTHOLOGY, MONALISA NO LONGER SMILES, BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK.

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Excerpt

The Power of Compassion by Kailash Satyarthi

Title: Karuna: The Power of Compassion 

Author: Kailash Satyarthi

Publisher: HarperCollins India

What Is Compassion?

Who are we? What are we doing here? What is the purpose of life? These complex existential questions are best left to thinkers and philosophers. We could instead begin with a more straightforward query: What do we want from life? Though our aspirations are countless and various, the desire for happiness, contentment and peace is familiar to all of us. None of us seek sadness, pain or trouble. But life invariably acquaints us with these negative feelings and experiences.

Our ability to feel the suffering of others as our own and our consequent efforts to alleviate it are integral to the human experience. This has led to the creation of families, communities and organisations. If we were all to look away from the pain of others, none of us would have a shot at happiness. The stories of Chirag and a group of teenagers from Sweden help illustrate the true meaning of compassion.

The word ‘chirag’ means ‘lamp’ and, true to his name, Chirag brought light to corners that were once shrouded in darkness. After being rescued from slavery, Chirag had been brought years ago to Bal Ashram in Rajasthan, our long-term rehabilitation centre for children rescued from child labour, trafficking and slavery.

In 2015, an eleven-year-old boy called Mithun was rescued by my organisation, Bachpan Bachao Andolan[1], and also brought to Bal Ashram. He had been trafficked from his village and taken to the city, where he was forced into begging. When we asked him where he was from, he could only say ‘Bengal’. A case was registered with the West Bengal police, but without adequate details they failed to find his home. So, Mithun continued living and pursuing his education at Bal Ashram.

In 2020, the children at Bal Ashram were celebrating Chhath, a Hindu festival native to the state of Bihar. Mithun remembered that people in his village would also celebrate this festival with great pomp and show. He also said there was a bus stand and market near his home that his elder brother would visit often. Since Chirag was from Bihar, he guessed that Mithun’s village might also be in his state. Chirag then began showing a keen interest in Mithun’s story and could often be seen jogging his friend’s memory for more information. Borrowing a teacher’s phone, Chirag scoured the internet and—after many months of Google searches—found Mithun’s village, a place called Borna in Bihar’s Khagaria district.

When Chirag learnt that Google Earth renders three-dimensional representations of places with satellite imagery, he began using the software to find the bus stand and market Mithun had described. Looking at one of the images Chirag showed him, Mithun’s face lit up. He was convinced this was the bus stand near his village. Mithun also identified a shop he’d often visited with his elder brother. Chirag zoomed in and found a phone number on a board above the shop. When he called that number, the shop owner confirmed that years ago he had heard of a child being kidnapped from a village some 20 km away. He promised to look for Mithun’s brother and bring him to his shop.

The next day, Mithun finally spoke to his elder brother after five years of separation. Bal Ashram burst into celebration. The children lifted Chirag onto their shoulders and showered him with praise. A few days later, Mithun went back to Borna with his brother, who had come to get him. When I asked Chirag why he had tried so hard to find Mithun’s family, he said, ‘If my younger brother or I were lost like this, would I not have done the same thing?’ Today, Chirag is pursuing a management degree in Chennai, while Mithun is studying at a school near his village.

The following story is of a group of students from Sweden. They, accompanied by their teacher Ula Asberg, had come to visit Mukti Ashram several years ago. Mukti Ashram in Delhi is our short stay rehabilitation home for boys who have been rescued from child slavery and child labour. After the students returned home, they discussed among themselves how it was unfair that there was no such home for girls. At the time, the number of boys being rescued was more than girls and we did not have the funds for homes for both. The Swedish students felt it was necessary that girls who faced exploitation should have access to the same kind of help and support the boys did. They shared their intentions with their teachers, and not only did they collect a large amount by pooling their own pocket money and savings, but they also mobilised the teachers to contribute.

A few months later, when I was on a trip to Sweden, the students invited me to their school. They shared with me their wonderful initiative, telling me that they wished the money they had collected could be used to set up a rehabilitation home for girls. When I asked them what had made them do such a thing, they said, ‘Of what value are these krona to us? A few extra treats? But for the girls who are stuck in exploitation, this sum of money means life and freedom.’

I was spellbound by their compassion. After I returned to India, their contribution was used to set up a large rehabilitation home—including dormitories, classrooms, medical care and other rehabilitative facilities—for girls.

The actions of Chirag and the students from Sweden show that compassion exists all around us and that it is not a mythical force to be found only in legends and folktales. The spark of compassion lies within us all.

Think of what connects you and others in a manner that is both pure and profound. Oftentimes, you find the connection is so deep that it not only makes you responsible for another person but also creates an irrepressible desire to alleviate their suffering. This connection can also transcend human boundaries and extend to nature—to the climate, mountains, rivers, oceans, trees and animals. That intuitive expression is compassion.

Compassion is the force borne from feeling the suffering of others as one’s own that drives mindful action to end that suffering.

(Excerpted from Chapter 1 of Karuna: The Power of Compassion by Kailash Satyarthi, Published by HarperCollins India)

About the Book:

I see a world where compassion is the only solution. Do you see what I see?

Never before has our world been so wealthy, well-informed and technologically advanced. Yet we are facing an unprecedented crisis: humanity is plagued by conflict, inequality and indifference. It is imperative, therefore, that we rethink our approach to life and society, and that we do so now. The answer lies in karuna, compassion.

Compassion is not a soft emotion but a powerful force for transformation. It transcends borders, ideologies, religions and politics. And it asks only this: Act mindfully, as if the world is all one family—because it is.

Nobel Peace Prize awardee Kailash Satyarthi has fought for the rights and dignity of millions of marginalized people across the globe for the past five decades. For him, compassion is a way of life. In this new book, he shows us how karuna is the answer to our individual, social and global problems, and the key to a better future.

The Author

Kailash Satyarthi, awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2014, has dedicated more than five decades to defending the rights and dignity of marginalized children and communities around the world. He believes Karuna—compassion—is the most powerful force for building a just, equitable, peaceful and sustainable world, and one that must guide how individuals, institutions and societies think and act.

[1] Save Childhood Campaign

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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Contents

Borderless, February 2026

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

What Do We Yearn for?… Click here to read.

Translations

Nazrul’s Ashlo Jokhon Phuler Phalgun (When Flowers Bloom Spring) has been translated from Bengali to English by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

An Elegy for the Merchant of Hope by Atta Shad has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Four of his own Malay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.

Two of her own Persian poems have been written and translated by Akram Yazdani. Click here to read.

The Beaten Rooster, a short story by Hamiruddin Middya, has been translated from Bengali by V Ramaswamy. Click here to read.

Tagore’s Shishur Jibon (The Child’s Life) has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Allan Lake, Goutam Roy, Chris Ringrose, Alpana, Lynn White, C.Mikal Oness, Shamim Akhtar, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Snehaprava Das, Jim Bellamy, Manahil Tahir, John Swain, Mohul Bhowmick, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, SR Inciardi

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In The Clumsy Giant, Rhys Hughes shares a funny poem about a gaint who keeps stubbing his toes! Click here to read.

Musings/Slice from Life

From the Land of a Thousand Temples

Farouk Gulsara shares attitudes towards linguistic heritage. Click here to read.

A Tangle of Clothes Hangers

Mario Fenech explores the idea of time. Click here to read.

Dreaming in Pondicherry

Mohul Bhowmick muses in Pondicherry. Click here to read.

Champagne Sailing

Meredith Stephens narrated a yatch race between Sydney and Hobart with photographs by Alan Noble. Click here to read.

In the Company of Words

Gower Bhat shares a heartfelt account of a bibliophile. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Horoscope or Horrorscope, Devraj Singh Kalsi reflects on predictions made at his birth. Click here to read.

Essays

The Chickpea That Logged More Mileage Than You

Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan gives an interesting account of the chickpeas journey through time and space, woven with a bit of irony. Click here to read.

Memories: Where Culture Meets Biology

Amir Zadnemat writes of how memory is impacted by both science and humanities. Click here to read.

The Restoration of Silence

Andriy Nivchuk brings to us repetitious realities that occur through histories. Click here to read.

Aeons of Art

In If Variety is the Spice of Life…, Ratnottama Sengupta introduces upcoming contemporary artists. Click here to read.

Stories

The Onion

JK Miller brings to us the story of a child in Khan Yunis. Click here to read.

Santa in the Autorickshaw

Snigdha Agrawal takes us to meet a syncretic spirit with a heartwarming but light touch. Click here to read.

Disillusioned

Sayan Sarkar shares a story of friendship and disillusionment. Click here to read.

Decluttering

Vela Noble shares a spooky fantasy. Click here to read.

The Value of Money

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao writes a story that reiterates family values. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Arupa Kalita Patangia’s Moonlight Saga, translated from Assamese by Ranjita Biswas. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Natalie Turner’s The Red Silk Dress. Click here to read.

Interview

Keith Lyons in conversation with Natalie Turner, author of The Red Silk Dress. Clickhere to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Sanjoy Hazarika’s River Traveller: Journeys on the TSANGO-BRAHMAPUTRA from Tibet to the Bay of Bengal. Click here to read.

Rakhi Dalal reviews Sujit Saraf’s Every Room Has a View — A Novel. Click here to read.

Anindita Basak reviews Taslima Nasrin’s Burning Roses in my Garden, translated from Bengali by Jesse Waters. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Kailash Satyarthi’s Karuna: The Power of Compassion. Click here to read.

.

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Editorial

What Do We Yearn for?

Most people like you and me connect with the commonality of felt emotions and needs. We feel hungry, happy, sad, loved or unloved and express a larger plethora of feelings through art, theatre, music, painting, photography and words… With these, we tend to connect. And yet, larger structures created over time to offer security and governance to the masses—of which you and I are a part — have grown divisive, and, by the looks of it, the fences nurtured over time seem insurmountable. To retain these structures that were meant to keep us safe, wars are being fought and many are getting killed, losing homes and going hungry. We showcase such stories, poems and non-fiction to create an awareness among those who are lucky enough to remain untouched. But is there a way out, so that all of us can live peacefully, without war, without hunger and with love and a vision towards surviving climate change which (like it or not) is upon us?

Creating an awareness of hunger and destruction wreaked by war is a heartrending story set in Gaza by JK Miller. While Snigdha Agrawal’s narrative gives a sense of hope, recounting a small kindness by a common person, Sayan Sarkar shares a more personal saga of friendship and disillusionment — where people have choice. But does war leave us a choice as it annihilates friendships, cities, homes and families? Naramsetti Umamaheswararao’s story reiterates the belief in the family – peace being an accepted unit. Vela Noble’s fantastical fiction and art comes like a respite– though there is a darker side to it — with a touch of fun. Perhaps, a bit of fantasy and humour opens the mind to deal with the more sombre notes of existence.

The translation section hosts a story by Hamiruddin Middya, who grew up as a farmer’s son in Bengal. Steeped in local colours, it has been rendered into English by V Ramaswamy. Nazrul’s song revelling in the colours of spring has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Atta Shad’s pensive Balochi lines have been brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch. Isa Kamari continues to bring the flavours of an older, more laid-back Singapore with translations of his own Malay poems. A couple of Persian verses have been rendered into English by the poet, Akram Yazdani, herself. Questing for harmony, Tagore’s translated poem while reflecting on a child’s life, urges us to have the courage to be like a child — open, innocent and willing to imagine a world laced with trust and hope. If we were all to do that, do you think we’d still have wars, violence and walls built on hate and intolerance?

While in a Tagorean universe, children are viewed as trusting and open, does that continue a reality in the current world that believes in keeping peace with weapons? Contemporary voices think otherwise. Manahil Tahir brings us a touching poem in a doll’s voice, a doll belonging to a child victimised by violence. While violence pollutes childhood, pollution in Delhi has been addressed by Goutam Roy in verse. Poignant lines from Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal make one question the idea of home and borders while Snehaprava Das has interpreted the word ‘borderless’ in her own way. We have more colours of humanity from Allan Lake, Chris Ringrose, Alpana, Lynn White, C.Mikal Oness, Shamim Akhtar, Jim Bellamy,John Swain, Mohul Bhowmick and SR Inciardi. Ryan Quinn Flanagan has given fun lines about a snow fight while Rhys Hughes has shared a humorous poem about a clumsy giant.

Bringing in humour in prose is Devraj Singh Kalsi’s musing about horoscopes! While, with a soupçon of irony Farouk Gulsara talks of his ‘holiday’, Meredith Stephen takes us to a yacht race in Australia and Mohul Bhowmick to Pondicherry. Gower Bhat writes of his passion for words while discussing his favourite books. Ratnottama Sengupta introduces us to contemporary artists from her part of the world.

Mario Fenech takes a look at the idea of time. Amir Zadnemat writes of how memory is impacted by both science and humanities while Andriy Nivchuk brings to us snippets from Herodotus’s and Pericles’s lives that still read relevant. Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan gives the journey of chickpeas across space and time, asserting: “The chickpea does not care about your ideology, your portfolio, or your meticulously curated identity. It will grow, fix nitrogen, feed someone, and move on without a press release.” It has survived over aeons in a borderless state!

In book excerpts, we have a book that transcends borders as it’s a translation from Assamese by Ranjita Biswas of Arupa Kalita Patangia’s Moonlight Saga. Any translation is an attempt to integrate the margins into the mainstream of literature, and this is no less. The other excerpt is from Natalie Turner’s The Red Silk Dress. Keith Lyons has interviewed Turner about her novel which crosses multiple cultures too while on a personal quest.

In reviews, Somdatta Mandal discusses a book that explores the colours of a river across three sets of borders, Sanjoy Hazarika’s River Traveller: Journeys on the TSANGO-BRAHMAPUTRA from Tibet to the Bay of Bengal. Rakhi Dalal writes about a narrative centring around migrants, Sujit Saraf’s Every Room Has a View — A Novel. Anindita Basak reviews Taslima Nasrin’s poetry, Burning Roses in my Garden, translated from Bengali by Jesse Waters. Bhaskar Parichha reviews Kailash Satyarthi’s Karuna: The Power of Compassion. In it, Satyarthi suggest the creation of CQ — Compassion Quotient— like IQ and EQ, claiming it will improve our quality of life. What a wonderful thought!

Could we be yearning compassion?

Holding on to that idea, we invite you to savour the contents of our February issue.

Huge thanks to all our contributors and readers for making this issue possible. Heartfelt thanks to our wonderful team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork.

Enjoy the reads!

Let’s look forward to the spring… May it bring new ideas to help us all move towards more amicable times.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

CLICK HERE TO ACCESS THE CONTENTS FOR THE FEBRUARY 2026 ISSUE.

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READ THE LATEST UPDATES ON THE FIRST BORDERLESS ANTHOLOGY, MONALISA NO LONGER SMILES, BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK.

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Review

Kailash Satyarthi on Compassion

Book Review by Bhaskar Parichha

Title: Karuna: The Power of Compassion

Author: Kailash Satyarthi

Publisher: Harper Collins India

Never before has the world been so wealthy, so networked and so saturated with information. And yet, as Kailash Satyarthi points out in Karuna: The Power of Compassion, humanity appears increasingly fractured—by inequality, conflict, ecological devastation and a growing culture of indifference. The paradox, he argues, is not a lack of resources or knowledge, but a moral failure. What the modern world suffers from is not technological deficit, but a deficit of compassion.

Satyarthi’s central intervention is to reclaim compassion from the realm of softness. In popular imagination, compassion is often treated as an individual emotion—gentle, personal, and largely apolitical. Karuna rejects this framing outright. Compassion, Satyarthi insists, is not passive kindness or distant sympathy. It is an active, disruptive force—one that challenges injustice, reshapes institutions and compels moral action.

For Satyarthi, compassion is born at a precise moment: when another person’s suffering is experienced not as an abstract concern but as one’s own. That recognition, he argues, cannot remain inert. True compassion demands a response. In this sense, compassion is not the opposite of power; it is a form of power—ethical power—that has historically driven social movements, expanded rights and forced political change. From struggles against child labour to campaigns for human dignity, Satyarthi positions compassion as the invisible engine behind lasting transformation.

One of the book’s most distinctive contributions is the idea of a “Compassion Quotient (CQ)”. Just as IQ measures cognitive ability and EQ assesses emotional intelligence, CQ is proposed as a way to understand how individuals, organisations and societies relate to suffering and responsibility. For Satyarthi, CQ is not an abstract moral scorecard. It is a practical framework—something that can be cultivated, strengthened and embedded into systems of governance, education and leadership.

The argument is clear: without a high CQ, even the most intelligent or emotionally skilled societies risk becoming efficient but cruel. Economic growth without compassion deepens inequality. Technological progress without compassion accelerates exclusion. Political power without compassion normalises injustice. CQ, in Satyarthi’s formulation, becomes the missing ethical dimension in modern decision-making.

To prevent compassion from dissolving into sentimentality, Satyarthi defines it through four inseparable elements. The first is awareness—the refusal to look away from suffering. Indifference, he argues, is not neutrality; it’s complicity. The second is connectedness—the recognition that another’s pain is not “their problem” but part of a shared human condition. This sense of moral interdependence is central to karuna or compassion.

The third element is deep feeling—a genuine emotional identification with the other, distinct from detached sympathy or charity. And finally, action—concrete, mindful steps to reduce harm and restore dignity. Compassion, Satyarthi insists, collapses if it stops at feeling. Without action, awareness becomes voyeurism and empathy becomes self-indulgence.

When these four elements converge, compassion becomes transformative. It turns individuals—often without formal authority—into problem-solvers, moral leaders and catalysts for change. This is a recurring theme in the book: power does not always flow from institutions; it often emerges from ethical clarity and moral courage.

Satyarthi’s insistence on compassion as a public ethic is shaped by his own life’s work. Over five decades, he has fought for the rights of millions of marginalised children across borders, cultures and political systems. In Karuna, these experiences are not presented as personal triumphs but as evidence of what compassion-in-action can achieve when it is organised, sustained and fearless.

The urgency of the book lies in its diagnosis of the present moment. Satyarthi argues that globalisation has connected markets and technologies, but not consciences. What is needed, he writes, is a “globalisation of compassion”—a deliberate effort to act as if the world is one family. This is not sentimental universalism, but a pragmatic moral stance, especially when addressing issues such as child exploitation, forced labour, displacement, and environmental collapse.

In a political climate increasingly defined by hostility, exclusion and moral exhaustion, Karuna makes a quiet but radical demand: that compassion be treated not as a personal virtue but as a collective responsibility. It calls on citizens, leaders and institutions to rethink success—not merely in terms of growth or efficiency, but in terms of dignity protected and suffering reduced.

Karuna: The Power of Compassion is not a manual for charity, nor a retreat into moral idealism. It is a challenge—to individuals and societies alike—to recognise that the future will not be shaped by intelligence, technology, or power alone. Without compassion as a guiding force, Satyarthi warns, progress itself becomes hollow. With it, even the most entrenched injustices can be confronted.

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Bhaskar Parichha is a journalist and author of Cyclones in Odisha: Landfall, Wreckage and Resilience, Unbiased, No Strings Attached: Writings on Odisha and Biju Patnaik – A Political Biography. He lives in Bhubaneswar and writes bilingually. Besides writing for newspapers, he also reviews books on various media platforms.

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Categories
Editorial

We had Joy, We had Fun…

Pre-historic cave painting in France

La Tauromaquia. Leap with the Spear by Picasso (1881-1973)
Courtesy: Creative Commons

There was a time when there were no boundaries drawn by humans. Our ancestors roamed the Earth like any other fauna — part of nature and the landscape. They tried to explain and appease the changing seasons, the altering landscapes and the elements that affected life and living with rituals that seemed coherent to them. There were probably no major organised structures that laid out rules. From such observances, our festivals evolved to what we celebrate today. These celebrations are not just full of joie de vivre, but also a reminder of our syncretic start that diverged into what currently seems to be irreparable breaches and a lifestyle that is in conflict with the needs of our home planet.

Reflecting on this tradition of syncretism in our folklore and music, while acknowledging the boundaries that wreak havoc, is an essay by Aruna Chakravarti. She expounds on rituals that were developed to appease natural forces spreading diseases and devastation, celebrations that bring joy with harvests and override the narrowness of institutionalised human construct. She concludes with Lalan Fakir’s life as emblematic of the syncretic lore. Lalan, an uneducated man brought to limelight by the Tagore family, swept across religious divides with his immortal lyrics full of wisdom and simplicity. Dyed in similar syncretic lore are the writings of a student and disciple of Tagore from Santiniketan, Syed Mujtaba Ali (1904-1974). His works overriding these artificial constructs have been brought to light, by his translator, former BBC editor, Nazes Afroz. Having translated his earlier book, In a Land Far from Home: A Bengali in Afghanistan, Afroz has now brought to us Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Tales of a Voyager (Jolay Dangay), in which we read of his travels to Egypt almost ninety years ago. In his interview, the translator highlights the current relevance of this remarkable polyglot.

Humming the tunes of Mujtaba Ali’s tutor, Tagore, a translation of Tagore’s song, Amra Beddhechhi Kasher Guchho (We have Tied Bunches of Kash[1]) captures the spirit of autumnal opulence which heralds the advent of Durga Puja. A translation by Fazal Baloch has brought a message of non-violence very aptly in these times from recently deceased eminent Balochi poet, Mubarak Qazi. Professor Fakrul Alam has translated a very contemporary poem by Quazi Johirul Islam on Barnes and Nobles while from Korea, we have a translation of a poem by Ihlwha Choi on the fruit, jujube, which is eaten fresh of the tree in autumn.

A poem which starts with a translation of a Tang dynasty’s poet, Yuan Zhen, inaugurates the first translation we have had from Mandarin — though it’s just two paras by the poet, Rex Tan, who continues writing his response to the Chinese poem in English. Mingling nature and drawing life lessons from it are poems by George Freek, Ryan Quinn Flanagan and Gopal Lahiri. We have poetry which enriches our treasury by its sheer variety from Hawla Riza, Pramod Rastogi, John Zedolik, Avantika Vijay Singh, Tohm Bakelas and more. Michael Burch has brought in a note of festivities with his Halloween poems. And Rhys Hughes has rolled out humour with his observations on the city of Mysore. His column too this time has given us a table and a formula for writing humorous poetry — a tongue-in-cheek piece, just like the book excerpt from The Coffee Rubaiyat. In the original Rubaiyat, Omar Khayyam (1048–1131) had given us wonderful quatrains which Edward Fitzgerald immortalised with his nineteenth century translation from Persian to English and now, Hughes gives us a spoof which would well have you rollicking on the floor, and that too, only because as he tells us he prefers coffee over wine!

Humour tinged with irony is woven into Devraj Singh Kalsi’s narrative on red carpet welcomes in Indian weddings. We have a number of travel stories from Peru to all over the world. Ravi Shankar takes us to Lima and Meredith Stephens to Californian hot springs with photographs and narratives while Sayani De does the same for a Tibetan monastery in Lahaul. Keith Lyons converses with globe trotter Tomaž Serafi, who lives in Ljubljana. And Suzanne Kamata adds colour with a light-veined narrative on robots and baseball in Japan. Syncretic elements are woven by Dr. KPP Nambiar who made the first Japanese-Malyalam Dictionary. He started nearly fifty years ago after finding commonalities between the two cultures dating back to the sixteenth century. Tulip Chowdhury brings in colours of Halloween while discussing ghosts in Bangladesh and America, where she migrated.

The theme of immigration is taken up by Gemini Wahaaj as she reviews South to South: Writing South Asia in the American South edited by Khem K. Aryal. Japan again comes into focus with Aditi Yadav’s Makoto Shinkai’s and Naruki Nagakawa’s She and Her Cat, translated from Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori. Somdatta Mandal has also reviewed a translation by no less than Booker winning Daisy Rockwell, who has translated Usha Priyamvada’s Won’t You Stay, Radhika? from Hindi. Our reviews seem full of translations this time as Bhaskar Parichha comments on One Among You: The Autobiography of M.K. Stalin, the current Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, translated from Tamil by A S Panneerselvan. In fiction, we have stories that add different flavours from Paul Mirabile, Neera Kashyap, Nirmala Pillai and more.

Our book excerpt from Nobel laureate Kailash Satyarthi’s Why didn’t You Come Sooner? Compassion in Action—Stories of Children Rescued from Slavery deserves a special mention. It showcases a world far removed from the one we know. While he was rescuing some disadvantaged children, Satyarthi relates his experience in the rescue van:

“One of the children gave it [the bunch of bananas] to the child sitting in front. An emaciated girl and a little boy were seated next to me. I told them to pass on the fruit to everyone in the back and keep one each for themselves. The girl looked curiously at the bunch as she turned it around in her hands. Then she looked at the other children.

“‘I’ve never seen an onion like this one,’ she said.

“Her little companion also touched the fruit gingerly and innocently added, ‘Yes, this is not even a potato.’

“I was speechless to say the least. These children had never seen anything apart from onions and potatoes. They had definitely never chanced upon bananas…”

Heart-wrenching but true! Maybe, we can all do our bit by reaching out to some outside our comfort or social zone to close such alarming gaps… Uma Dasgupta’s book tells us that Tagore had hoped many would start institutions like Sriniketan all over the country to bridge gaps between the underprivileged and the privileged. People like Satyarthi are doing amazing work in today’s context, but more like him are needed in our world.

We have more writings than I could mention here, and each is chosen with much care. Please do pause by our contents page and take a look. Much effort has gone into creating a space for you to relish different perspectives that congeal in our journal, a space for all of you. For this, we have the team at Borderless to thank– without their participation, the journal would not be as it is. Sohana Manzoor with her vibrant artwork gives the finishing touch to each of our monthly issues. And lastly, I cannot but express my gratefulness to our contributors and readers for continuing to be with us through our journey. Heartfelt thanks to all of you.

Have a wonderful festive season!

Best wishes,

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] Wild long grass

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Categories
Excerpt

Stories of Children Rescued From Slavery by Nobel Laureate Kailash Satyarthi

Title: Why Didn’t You Come Sooner? Compassion In Action— Stories of Children Rescued From Slavery

Author: Kailash Satyarthi

Publisher: Speaking Tiger Books

I seated a few of the children in my car, and drove away as fast as I could. The truck with the men and women followed me. The clothes of the children who sat with me in the car were tattered and torn. The wounds on their flesh could be seen through the holes in their clothes. Every such wound is a blot on human civilization. The frightened little girls were trying to hide their bellies and chests by hugging their knees. They simply could not make sense of all that had happened since morning. I made tentative attempts to talk to them. I tried explaining to them that they were now free from bonded labour and were being taken to a secure place. But they had never known freedom, or safety. How could they understand what I was trying to tell them? Maybe they assumed I was their new owner.

Just then, I remembered that there were some bananas lying in the back of the car. I asked the children on the back seat to distribute them among themselves. I thought they must be hungry, and might feel better after eating something. But no one picked up the bananas.

‘Go on, child. Pick up that bunch of bananas and pass it on,’ I gently repeated myself.

One of the children gave it to the child sitting in front. An emaciated girl and a little boy were seated next to me. I told them to pass on the fruit to everyone in the back and keep one each for themselves. The girl looked curiously at the bunch as she turned it around in her hands. Then she looked at the other children.

‘I’ve never seen an onion like this one,’ she said.

Her little companion also touched the fruit gingerly and innocently added, ‘Yes, this is not even a potato.’

I was speechless to say the least. These children had never seen anything apart from onions and potatoes. They had definitely never chanced upon bananas before. Upon further cajoling, some of them started chewing on the bananas. But they were trying to eat the fruit without peeling it. Some tried to swallow it while others were trying to hide it in their palms after having spat it out. My imprudence had for a moment pushed me back a few thousand years. The difference between an unpeeled banana and a peeled one was the distance between slavery and freedom. I quickly tried to rectify my error and taught them how to peel a banana and consume it. Most of them tasted the sweetness of the fruit and probably relished it too.

They began sharing this new experience among themselves in their dialect. I was feeling their joy too. Just then, the little girl sitting next to me tapped me on the shoulder and almost screamed.

‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’

I instantly turned to face her. Her innocent, tear-filled eyes and pained voice laced with anger pierced my heart. I could tell that these words had risen from the depths of her heart, where they lay suffocating for years.

Her younger brother had passed away for lack of availability of medicine. Once, the quarry owners had beaten up her father and uncle and branded them with burning cigarettes. They had raised their voice against the sexual exploitation of the women and tried to escape. Even the tiny hands of the children, when wounded, were never tended. They couldn’t even manage to get bits of cloth to tie around their wounds. This little girl had survived the entirety of hell in the eight years of her life. This was probably the first time that she could bring herself to trust someone enough to mouth the words, ‘Why didn’t you come sooner?’

That challenging question deepened the restlessness and anger that the issue of child slavery aroused in me. The child who posed this question was none other than Devli. She had put it to me, but it is one that needs to be answered by every person who speaks of faith, law, the Constitution, human rights, freedom, childhood, humanity, equality and justice. That question is as pertinent today as it was on that day all those years ago.

According to an estimate, there are around five million labourers employed in stone quarries in India. Hundreds of thousands among them are child labourers. Contractors and their agents pay tiny advances to impoverished families in backward areas and get them to come to the quarries on some false pretext or another. This is the organized crime of human trafficking that is often dressed up as migration or displacement. Usually, there is no record of workers in the quarries. In other words, children like Devli and her parents do not exist anywhere in legal terms.

To break up the stone, deep holes are drilled in it with powerful machines by skilled or semi-skilled workers which are then detonated with the use of gunpowder. The large rocks that are exposed after the explosion are broken down into smaller stones by adult men and women as well as children. The smaller children are engaged in removing the soil before the detonation takes place as well as removing the small stone chips after. Death is far from uncommon among these unskilled labourers who often get buried under the rocks thrown up by the explosions or when a quarry, unsteady from the shock, caves in.

(Excerpted from Why Didn’t You Come Sooner?: Compassion In Action—Stories of Children Rescued From Slavery by Kailash Satyarthi. Published by Speaking Tiger Books, 2023)

About the Book:

The work of rescuing children from slavery is not for the faint of heart, as the twelve gut-wrenching accounts in this book will show. Harder still is to give them their life back, after they’ve been kidnapped, trafficked, sold, abused and made to work in horrific conditions, often for as long as they can remember. Pradeep was offered up for human sacrifice by his family, thought to be a bad omen; Devli was a third-generation slave in a stone quarry in Haryana, who had never seen a banana before her rescue; Ashraf, a domestic child labourer at a senior civil servant’s house, was starved and scalded as punishment; Sahiba was trafficked from Assam to be someone’s wife against her will; Kalu was abducted and made to weave carpets all day long, his injuries cauterized with phosphorus scraped off matchsticks; Bhavna was trapped in a circus, sexually abused for years by her owners; Rakesh was worked in the fields all year round like cattle, and spent the nights locked up with them in the stable; Sabo was born to labourers at a brick kiln, and never knew life outside it; and Manan lived his childhood mining mica in the forests of Jharkhand, barely given time to even mourn his friend who got buried when the mine caved in. Kailash Satyarthi’s own life and mission were entwined with the journeys of these children. Having lived through unspeakable trauma, they had lost faith in humanity. But behind their reticence, behind their scraggy limbs and calloused hands and feet, hope still endured. This book tells the story of their shared struggle for justice and dignity—from the raid and rescue operations of Satyarthi’s Bachpan Bachao Andolan, to international campaigns for child rights. It is a testament both to the courage of the human spirit and to the power of compassion.

About the Author:

Kailash Satyarthi (b. 11 January 1954) is one of the most well-known child rights activists in the world. He has led many national and international campaigns to protect child rights and promote their education over four decades and rescued countless children from slavery. He is a recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, among many other human rights awards.

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Categories
pandies' corner

Children of Nithari: A Letter to God

Narrative by Tanveer Hussain & translated from Hindustani by Vritika Thareja

Tanveer Hussain decided to not be a burden on his family at a very young age and worked while pursuing his schooling. Now 27 years old, he has worked at many places and worn many hats.  From being a polio awareness volunteer to a teacher at the Saksham NGO (where he attended the charity school and met pandies volunteers), to a typist and an electrician, he is employed as a driver today. He joined pandies’ workshops (as he started visiting the Saksham school) in 2008 and is remembered as a quiet boy who would unleash a fury of talent when asked to perform in workshops or onstage. He first appeared on the American Center stage in 2011 and has since been a consistent performer. He writes short stories and wants to  learn to write fluently in English before he gets married.

A Letter to God

Dear God,

I hope all is well with you. I wonder where your abode is these days. Are you in the hearts of billions of believers or are you residing somewhere in the beautifully carved and crafted buildings made specially in your name? Everyone I meet, claims to be an expert on you and your location, but no one really seems to know. 

Honestly, I did try looking for you under the peepul tree where many residents of my society go to pray every morning, but I had to make do with blissfully smiling photos of you. I even travelled far and wide into the mountains, thinking maybe just maybe I was misdirected. Well, there too, I was met with a bunch of people reciting your stories. Asked around, searched on the internet. Still couldn’t reach you.

Hey, don’t you think this will break my spirit, God? After all, I am devout and finding you is my mission now — even if I have to wage a war against humanity. There are one too many taking place anyway. Not that one more is going to make a difference, right?

Okay, let’s say I do find you and prove your existence. Let’s say I ensure that every last human being living on the face of the Earth bows down to you. Would I be content? Hell, no! I wouldn’t trust their word for it. Faith doesn’t come easy these days, God. Generations need to feel the impact. It’s not a fool’s game.

Well, God, I heard you can see all of us from where you are. How’s the view? Did you see how bribes have travelled from bureaucratic offices to the temples in your name? Asking favours from you has become a fancy affair? So much in the name of ‘faith’! It’s such a cute little word that means nothing to those who preach it these days, I tell you.

But the smart move was just leasing out your name to the religious preachers. Had you given them a real part of your power, I don’t know what all they would have done. I’m sure you have heard the famous saying, “You offer them a hand, they grab your arm.”

Tell me something, under your watch, after the world has been practically forced to offer bounties to you for peace and prosperity, offer you more than the taxes (or sometimes to just evade taxes), why are people getting murdered, raped, assaulted, looted? I run out of words to describe the horrors, really. I have seen people’s lives turning into living hell.

Are you okay with this? Don’t you think it’s outright unfair? People say you are watching everything and that whatever you do is for our good. I mean, we can’t see what’s in their future but apparently you do, right? So, I assume then you knew how horrible would be the future of any rape victim? But I am conflicted. In a rape case in my village, both the victim and the perpetrator suffered.  The girl committed suicide out of living with the ‘shame’ of facing the extremely moral society we live in. And the rapist, the only earning member of his family, was hanged to death. His family is now crippled for money. The government will provide monetary aid to both the families for some time. But, after that? Then how are they supposed to manage? How are the parents of that unfortunate girl supposed to ever find happiness? What about the wife and daughter of the man who was hanged? What did they do to suffer the shame and poverty that they will now? Who will take their responsibility? I thought you kept all of this in mind before you let things happen here on Earth.

Am I mistaken? Are these just stories woven too deep and wide? Maybe you can’t foresee the future. If you could, I am sure you’d put a stop to this madness.

I am convinced now, that it is we who propagate and spice up the wrongs in this society and then criticise others, assuming a moral high ground ourselves. We don’t stop and introspect for once, the impact our words and actions will have on our children, the generation that will grow up to imitate the very same deeds. A generation that can be moulded towards a more inclusive and positive future is executing the hatred we are sowing with our very own hands. Aren’t I right? After all, a knife is a knife – you can either look at it as a weapon of murder or a tool for slicing fruits – it’s a game of perspectives.

Honestly, God, I feel that we have mastered the art of twisting tales to please ourselves. And it’s not like the entire human race is incapable of being up to any good. As long as people like Kailash Satyarthi and Maanjhi the Mountain Man continue to make a difference, there is still hope. From time to time, we have witnessed people who have risen above and against the common belief to prove that walking against the wind and reading against the grain is a possibility. I refuse to believe those who affirm that destiny will always overpower a man’s free will.

God, I have poured my heart out to you. You are so patient, and I, ever so grateful for you. There’s immense power in believing that you are up there, ensuring all of us are safe and sailing smoothly, especially in times like these where covid has wreaked havoc on the entire planet.

You, the taskmaster of it all, have got it all under control.

Or at least I hope so.

Your child,

Tanveer Hussain

Kailash Satyarthi: An internationally acclaimed child rights activist who fights to put an end to child slavery and exploitation

Maanjhi the Mountain Man: Dashrath Manjhi, a labourer from Gehlaur village in Bihar who carved a path 110m long, 9.1m wide and 7.7m deep through a mountain, single handedly using just a hammer and a chisel, to create a route to give his fellow villagers easier access route to hospitals in the city.

Vritika Thareja is an advertising professional who believes that power lies in the hands of those who dare to tell a story. She has been associated with pandies’ theatre since 2015 and facilitates workshops held with other organisations including Shaktishalini Women’s Shelter Home and Saksham, Nithari.