Categories
Essay

A Cyclist’s Diary: Criss-crossing the Titiwangsa

Photographs and narrative by Farouk Gulsara

Along the Titiwangsa Range

Day 1: KKB-Fraser’s Hill-Raub

These days, our cyclists’ group yearns for long weekends. On Sunday, 31st May 2026, Malaysians honoured Lord Buddha on his birthday. 1st June was marked as the King’s official birthday. In their honour, Malaysians enjoyed four days away from office. It would have been seven if one had mysteriously fallen ill on the preceding Thursday and Friday, as Wednesday, 27th May 2026, was Hari Raya Haji, commemorating Prophet Ibrahim’s sacrifice to God. With the holiday mood set, the cyclists were not inclined to stay idle.

With the holiday mood set, the cyclists were not inclined to stay idle during the festivities. Instead, they wanted to be in sync with nature, hear the birds chirp, and immerse themselves in the wild’s greenery.

Titiwangsa is marked in brown. Cameron Highlands and Fraser Hill are part of this range. From Public Domain

This was the first time we were trying this route and conquering these highlands that are part of the Titiwangsa, a mountain range that forms the spine of the Malay Peninsula. A few years ago, I did participate in a competition from Simpang Pulai in Perak, a western state, to the Cameron Highlands. Now, it is a different ballgame, approaching the beast from the east to kill it. The day started early with a drive up to Kuala Kubu Bahru, and after gearing up, the journey began. Before the climb, a brief historical detour made KKB feel like the right starting point.

For some historical perspective, KKB is an old town with a rich historical heritage. It had already become a tin-mining town by the 1870s. Legend has it the locals had built a dam above the original town, Kubu. Kubu (fort) was built by the warring factions in the 1870s Selangor Civil War[1]. The British moved in to set law and order.

The district officer, a Briton, had apparently hunted and killed an albino crocodile that the local folks believed was a guardian of the dam. Once the crocodile was gone, the balance was upset, and the dam broke its banks. Without its guardian, Kubu was almost destroyed, save a Chinese temple and a mosque. The destroyed area was named Ampang Pecah (broken dam). The town was rebuilt on higher ground and renamed Kuala Kubu Bahru[2].

Because the British officers thought KKB was too hot and humid for their comfort, they sent their workers to search for a place with a more pleasant climate. Hence, Fraser’s Hill came to the fore.

The roads leading to the Hill are unceremoniously remembered as the place where Malaya’s Highways Commissioner, Sir Henry Gurney, was gunned down by communist insurgents in 1951. According to the Malaysian Communist Party, it was a ‘routine’ ambush and that ‘big catch’ was quite unexpected[3].

The climb up to Fraser’s Hill was quite gruelling. The inclination was around 5%, sometimes peaking at 10% and 12%. The Hill was about 1330 metres above sea level. After a short stopover at the resort station, it was a cool ride down the hill. From the ascent, the contrast made the descent feel especially rewarding.

From there, the long stretch down to Raub was pleasant, with mostly continuous slow decline, just enough to recover from the earlier climb up to Fraser’s. We also noticed a funny thing on Fraser’s Hill. Even though Fraser’s Hill is technically located in the State of Pahang, the administrative council is the Hulu Selangor Town Council in Selangor. After a short stopover, it was time to move on.

After cycling 86km over 5h51m and gaining about 1400m of elevation, we reached Raub, having completed the day’s ride.

I had imagined Raub to be a ghost town, much like the Wild West towns in America that became deserted after the gold ran dry[4]. I remembered from my geography lessons that Raub was the ‘gold capital of Malaya’. Bau in Sarawak was the other place with gold deposits. In the late 19th century, Raub was already famous amongst the locals for its gold. Raub, in the local lingo, meant a fistful. That was how much one could scoop of gold from the riverbed with a dulang (a flat tray used for mining). That drew in multinational companies, including an Australian firm that modernised mining to achieve higher yields. That, too, ignited related activities and the mushrooming of colonial Tudor-style buildings, which are neatly maintained to this day. Hence, modern Raub turned out to be a busy town, serving as a stopover for those travelling along the spine of the Peninsula to Gua Musang and Kota Bahru.

Raub hit the headlines again recently for being the centre of the ‘Hermès’ of king of fruits, the Musang King durian [5]. Disused pieces of state land belonging to the State Royalty were used by enterprising durian planters to churn out, via budgrafting, a particular breed of durian that had durian lovers from China yearning for more and more. Seeing its great potential, the Royalty decided to claim their land[6]. There is also talk of a different kind of mining in the pipeline in Raub for rare earth elements (REE). It is said being discussed between the State-level and Chinese investors[7].

After settling down at Raub Hotel, a convenient 3-star hotel right in town, we took a stroll around town. The imposing shop that caught our attention was Restoran Ratha Raub[8], a red-painted building with its name in bold, striking, contrasting fonts. At first glance, it seemed just like a generic Indian makan[9] shop. Only upon entering did it dawn upon us that the owners were going places. Plastered on its walls were numerous pictures of important luminaries enjoying themselves in the shop. There were even newspaper cuttings in the national dailies describing its curry as deliciously ‘foxy’! I wonder why. Is that a hint of the restaurant serving exotic meat? The one that took the cake was the photo the owner took with the Sultan of Brunei. Apparently, the restaurant also marketed its halal curry powder at a trade festival in Brunei that His Highness attended. We later learned that Restoran Ratha Raub also had a branch in the Klang Valley.

Day 2: Raub to Sg Koyan; Betau post

After a quick breakfast of bread and peanut butter by 0630am, we hit the road. The second day was going to be a recovery ride of sorts, and we were supposed to hit the Cameron Highlands on the last day. So, the plan was to ride to Sg Koyan, a small township in the middle of Pahang amidst the Felda land development programme.

The first small town we traversed was Cheroh, a Chinese New Village with a row of coffee shops, small- and medium-sized industries, half-plank, half-brick houses, and temples. Rows of palm oil trees soothed our eyes as we rode uninterrupted, except for a herd of cows criss-crossing the road, grazing their morning chow.

One of the fascinating things we usually see as we drive along the roads is how quirky some businesses’ names are. On this road, we noticed a regular coffee shop named ‘Double Three Kopitiam[10]‘, a direct reference to Hilton’s Double Tree. Perhaps the owner was aware of another restaurateur in Bangsar who got into a legal tussle with HSBC for naming his shop HSBC, too. The Bangsar owner thought ‘Hot Spicy Bangsar Cuisine’ aptly described what he was offering. An Indian family offering Chinese cuisine already had people turning their heads; what’s more, with a catchy name. The multinational conglomerate, Hongkong Shanghai Banking Corporation, which sprang from the tears of the family of a person with an opium addiction in China around the Opium War, thought otherwise. They sued, but it led nowhere. Along the way, too, I saw way too many schools, disproportionate to the area’s population. There were huge Chinese schools, Tamil schools and even residential ones. Perhaps people in this region understood the value of education or that politicians in cahoots with building contractors used school buildings as part of their moneymaking schemes.

In 3.5hrs, we had already completed the day’s intended 73km journey. We had reached Sg Koyan, our stop for the day. Since we had time on our hands and the ride was relatively easy, we decided to add an extra 15km, meant to reduce our burden on the last day. So, we ended the day after riding 88km in about 4h20m.

Sg Koyan is literally in the middle of nowhere. It is a collection area for jungle produce, a centre for Felda settlers, served by a row of shops, petrol stations and a farmers’ market. The only decent rest house, frequented by the rich and famous around here, as we later discovered, was Jelai Inn. This inn is clean, fairly well maintained and spacious. The restaurant, with an in-house chef, prepared various Malay dishes that we can bravely say changed our perception of how tasty traditional Malay cuisine can be—highly recommended.

After going the extra mile on the second leg of the journey, we reached Betau post. Betau is inhabited mainly by the orang asli (the original dwellers of Malaysia). The whole area had been gentrified, with nice roads and a rest-and-recreation area where people could sell their products. The area had received the royal seal as a weaving centre to showcase orang asli handicrafts. From there, we headed into the final stretch.

Day 3: Betau post to Ringlet to Tanah Rata

Selangor River Reservoir enroute to Fraser Hill

From there, the last stretch proved to be the most gruelling one yet. Starting with a slight climb, it increased to 5%, sometimes to 9-12%. The only saving grace was the occasional punctuation of climbs with descents, giving a brief respite to the sore muscles.

Even though this stretch spanned 60 km, it took us 5h15m and featured 1550m of elevation gain.

The roads all along the stretch were very well maintained and wide. They grew narrower, and the traffic grew heavier as we approached Ringlet and Tanah Rata. Nevertheless, we received adequate encouragement from passersby as we drew nearer and nearer to the elusive finishing line, set at the iconic clock tower in Tanah Rata. Thus ended the legendary ride over 229km, with an elevation gain of over 3,520 m and a moving time of 13 hr 53 m.

View of Cameron Highlands enroute

[1] https://kkbwebsite.neocities.org/Attraction

[2] https://museumvolunteersjmm.com/2024/01/28/the-quaint-little-town-steeped-in-history/

[3] https://www.nst.com.my/lifestyle/sunday-vibes/2018/10/418756/henry-gurneys-final-fight

[4] https://britishmalaya.home.blog/2022/07/29/the-gold-rush-in-malaya/

[5] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cz7ndzw28v4o

[6] https://www.themalaysianinsight.com/s/271658

[7] nst.com.my/news/nation/2024/05/1048705/pahang-has-rare-earth-resources-worth-some-rm80-billion

[8] https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g2530734-d3963324-Reviews-Restoran_Ratha_Raub-Raub_Raub_District_Pahang.html

[9] food

[10] Coffeeshop

Farouk Gulsara is a daytime healer and a writer by night. After developing his left side of his brain almost half his lifetime, this johnny-come-lately decided to stimulate the non-dominant part of his remaining half. An author of two non-fiction books, Inside the twisted mind of Rifle Range Boy and Real Lessons from Reel Life, he writes regularly in his blog, Rifle Range Boy.

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

Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems

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Categories
The Lost Mantras

Soulful poems by Isa Kamari

Poetry and translations from Malay by Isa Kamari

From Public Domain
BATIK

A piece of white cloth,
although clean,
does not begin to tell a story.
It absorbs whatever that is spilled,
wet, becomes damp, then dry.
That is thought without rigour,
that is feeling without limits,
that is life without mindfulness.

And the canting teaches perseverance,
and the canting develops decorum,
to contain the hot molten wax,
focus the flow through a pinhole.
The deliberate and gentle movement of the fingers,
controlled drawing of patterns,
limits that are artistic,
sensitivities that are cultured,
leaving boundaries, traces of white dried wax.

The cloth is coloured by choice,
according to taste and temperament.
The resultant pattern is soaked in boiling water.
Control and limits melt, leaving behind principled white lines.

Behold and gaze intently.
If satisfied, it is dried on the clothesline.
If not beautiful yet, it is redrawn—
a representation of the worth of a dynamic personality,
moulded from both freedom and control,
the dance of the canting and molten wax.

MY LOVE

You who are far,
do you pine for me?
I am near, always.

Silence is the antidote of longing.
Distance is the bond of affection.
Prayer is the host of love.
Gratitude knocks on acceptance.

Mutually, let’s not doubt
My Love.


WORDS

Words that are upheld
become the Self, that are lettered
stab and be stabbed till unspoken.

For a Saint,
every word is a trust.
The heart of every word is Silence.


FITRAH
(Natural Tendency)

Alif
Between you and me
perhaps is just a page of forgetfulness,
so I need not feel arrogant
to declare that I have a God
while you have not returned to the fitrah.

Ya
Your end might be nobler than mine,
for you have cried
when attesting of Him in the spiritual sphere,
while I am still in doubt,
gazing at God’s face till now.

Isa Kamari has written 12 novels, 3 collections of poetry, a collection of short stories, a book of essays on Singapore Malay poetry, a collection of theatre scripts and lyrics of 3 music albums, all in Malay. His novels have been translated into English, Turkish, Urdu, Arabic, Indonesian, Jawi, Russian, French, Spanish, Korean, Azerbaijan and Mandarin. Several of his essays and selected poems have been translated into English. Isa was conferred the S.E.A Write Award from Thailand (2006), the Singapore Cultural Medallion (2007), the Anugerah Tun Seri Lanang (2009) from the Singapore Malay Language Council, and the Mastera Literary Award (2018) from Brunei Darussalam.

He obtained a BArch (Hons) from the National University of Singapore in 1989, an MPhil (Malay Letters) from Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia in 2008 and is currently pursuing a PhD programme at the Academy of Islamic Studies, Univeristi Malaya. His area of research is on the problem of alienation and the practice of firasat (spiritual intuition) in selected Singapore Malay novels.

The Lost Mantras is a collection that blends spirituality, Malay cultural heritage, and universal human experience. First published as part of Menyap Cinta (Love Greetings, 2022, Nuha Books KL), these poems are like a bridge between mysticism and everyday life, where traditional images (betel, jasmine, kris[1], oil lamps, setanjak[2]) are woven with Qur’anic echoes, prayers, and existential questioning. The collection carries a Sufi resonance—always circling back to longing, humility, surrender, and beauty as signs of God. The poems are not only lyrical but also function as cultural memory: they preserve Malay traditions, communal practices, and village life, while situating them in a cosmic framework of faith, sin, and redemption. The use of Malay customs, rituals, and objects is powerful: it asserts that spirituality is not abstract but embedded in heritage. This makes the collection uniquely Southeast Asian despite its universal in appeal.

[1]A dagger

[2] Malay headgear

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

Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems

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Categories
Contents

Borderless, May 2026

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow……..Click here to read.

Feature

In conversation with Teresa Rehman with focus on her non-fiction, Bulletproof: A Journalist’s Notebook on Reporting Conflict and a brief introduction to her book. Click here to read.

Translations

Robihara (Sunless) by Kazi Nazrul Islam has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam from Bengali. Click here to read.

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

The Stillness in Ocean-deep Eyes, a Balochi story by Younus Hussain has been translated by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Tagore’s Shomoye Choleyi Jaaye (The Time Passes) has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, A Jessie Michael, Brenton Booth, Momina Raza, Pete Peterson, Mitra Samal, Ron Pickett, Anjana Vipin Edakkunny, John Swain, Prithvijeet Sinha, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Md Mujib Ullah, Keith Lyons, Snigdha Agrawal, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Rhysop’s Fables: Noses, Genies, Icebergs & More…, Rhys Hughes shares more short, absurd tales. Click here to read.

Musings/ Slices from Life

Finding Human Warmth in Japan’s Scarecrow Village

Odbayar Dorj travels to a village with 27 human residents and many scarecrows. Click here to read.

Schlepping Suitcases in Saigon

Meredith Stephens continues to write on her holiday inVietnam with photographs by Alan Noble. Click here to write.

Living Through Change

Farouk Gulsara reflects on changes within his lifetime. Click here to read.

Into the Wilderness…

Arathi Devandran explores attitudes to the dead as opposed to the living using her personal experiences. Click here to read.

Where Stories Find You…

Gowher Bhat takes us to the Sunday Book Bazaar in Old Delhi. Click here to read.

Random or Staged

Jun A. Alindogan writes of concerns about media manipulation. Click here to read.

The Verandah, The Voice Note, and You, Abba

Mubida Rohman writes a touching tribute using the epistolary technique. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In A Suitable Business, Devraj Singh Kalsi muses on why he needs to start a liquor business with a hint of sarcasm. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In My Husband and AI, Suzanne Kamata writes of how the use of AI is impacting their lives. Click here to read.

Essays

Sam Dalrymple and the Shattered Lands

Farouk Gulsara explores Sam Dalrymple’s new book. Click here to read.

Ozymandias Syndrome and the Illusion of Permanence

Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan explores Shelley’s poem against the backdrop of history and current affairs. Click here to read.

The Man in 16C

C Christine Fair writes how her past caught up with her present predicament in a candid memoir. Click here to read.

Stories

Flour, Yeast Water

Mario Fenech gives us a poignant vignette from the life of a migrant family. Click here to read.

Ephemeral Tears

Abhik Ganguly shares a futuristic story in a different galaxy. Click here to read.

Courage

Sayan Sarkar shares a strange tale set in Kolkata. Click here to read.

The Boy Who Learned to be Brave

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao shares a story about a young boy overcoming his fears. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Nirmala Thomas’s Snowed Under, translated from Malayalam by Radhika P Menon. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Nikhil Kulkarni’s My Summer of Cricket: Three Tests, One Fan and Decades of Stories. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Sushila Takbhaure’s My Shackled Life, translated from Hindi by Deeba Zafir and Preeti Dewan. Click here to read.

Rakhi Dalal reviews Maithreyi Karnoor’s novel, Gooday Nagar. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Kaukub Talat Quder Sajjad Ali Meerza’s Wajid Ali Shah: A Cultural and Literary Legacy, translated from Urdu by Talat Fatima. Click here to read.

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Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems

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

Categories
Editorial

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow…

Art by Sohana Manzoor

In a world torn by conflict, why would one mention hope or compassion? In an age of dystopian scenarios, why would we dream of utopias?

Perhaps it’s wishful musings, but at some level what people need to survive is probably something to look forward to — a speck of light — a wishful idea called hope. Hope builds resilience. Utopias are built on hope, on love and compassion. Dystopias are built on desperation and despair. They take fear or horror to the extreme and play on people’s vulnerabilities. They might induce a cathartic effect and one might say— we are better off as we are in the present or we must act so that this never happens. Is that something we can really say in a world where wars are disrupting peace and lives of all humanity, where violence against civilians is becoming an accepted norm, where shortages could also be a reality for most of us? Utopias, on the other hand, build on the element of an ideal, a dream towards which we can move on the bleakest day of our existence. They could be used to stir hope and envision a reality devoid of violence. And perhaps, some of it would congeal into a real-world scenario with smaller doses of the bad and ugly.  In a conflict-ridden world, which almost feels like a reenactment of George Orwell’s 1984 (only about four and a half decades after his predicted date) what would touch your heart, give you a sense of relief— hope for a better future or dwelling on doomsday predictions? What would you want for your progeny?

Just before the pandemic changed our lives, a book was published where while questing for their own utopia, a group of young people became part of a dystopian reality. They were known as the ULFA rebels[1] and their story was told in Bulletproof: A Journalist’s Notebook on Reporting Conflict by Teresa Rehman. The current relevance of this book cannot be undermined because not only does it humanise the insurgents perspective, but it also shows how a centrist set up can neglect the needs of particular fringe communities. In addition, Rehman’s heartrending stories of poachers and people who live unaccepted in the margins only strengthen the need for an unboxed world where tolerance and compassion would transcend these artificially created fences that divide and lead to violence. This issue features Rehman’s book and an online discussion with her which stretches beyond the confines of pages.

Suggesting the same need to make sense in a world torn by violence and conflict is Snigdha Agrawal’s poem, ‘Inflation of Memory’.

Yesterday…
Life seemed well-orchestrated…

Today…
In an astonishing volte-face,
Markets are down.
People are finding it hard
to make both ends meet…


Tomorrow…
Perhaps we’ll download hope in an update…
And we’ll stand in queues again,
this time for optimism…

In our poetry section, we have variety with writings from across the world with Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, A Jessie Michael, Brenton Booth, Momina Raza, Pete Peterson, Mitra Samal, Ron Pickett, Anjana Vipin Edakkunny, John Swain, Prithvijeet Sinha and Md Mujib Ullah. Ryan Quinn Flanagan brings art into play in his poem.  Keith Lyons has surprised us – not with non-fiction — but with a flavourful poem on autumn in New Zealand, which is about now. And Rhys Hughes has amazing poems which through humour make us reimagine effusions on flowers and ghosts in socks!

We have more poetry in our translations, some sombre and some funny. A Bengali poem written as a tribute by Nazrul on the death of his older friend, Rabindranath Tagore, has been rendered into English by Professor Fakrul Alam. To add a lighter touch, we have translated a fun-filled poem by Tagore. Isa Kamari continues to translate his own Malay poems to bring in flavours of the culture. This time his poems seem to urge a need to transcend age-old stratifications. We also have a Balochi human-interest story by Younus Hussain brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch.

Hughes’ column too has fiction. His humorous and absurdist fables continue to urge re-evaluation of the world as well as genres. We also have a poignant narrative built around a Vietnamese migrant family by Mario Fenech. Sayan Sarkar shares a tale upending norms set in Kolkata while Naramsetti Umamaheswararao narrates a story about a young boy overcoming his fears. Abhik Ganguly gives us a strange fiction set in the future in a different galaxy, where Earth is seen as the original planet of human evolution.

C Christine Fair, who is an established translator, has surprised us — like Lyons — this time with a personal memoir which dwells on the deeply annihilating impact of norms that define gender roles. Upending the idea of an immutable ruler who can overpower us, is an essay by Ravi Varmman K Kanniappan with its roots in the ruins Rameses II — known as Ozymandias too — and Shelley’s poem of the same name.

We have had an overflow of writing about the unusual and redefining norms in our non-fiction section. Odbayar Dorj weaves an unusual narrative and shares photographs from a village of scarecrows in Japan that has a population of 27 humans and 370 scarecrows. She tells us: “In a place where people and scarecrows live side by side, I began to understand something simple but profound: sometimes, when human presence fades, we find our own ways to fill the silence with memories, imagination, and love.” Humanity never ceases to hope. Filling in silences are narratives by Arathi Devandran and Mubida Rohman on how they deal with the quietness left by departed loved ones.

We have more from Meredith Stephens with photographs by Alan Noble on their trip to Vietnam — as they travel to places that are less touristy while Gowher Bhat explores the Sunday Book Bazaar at Old Delhi. Farouk Gulsara travels back to Penang where he spent his childhood and reflects on changes. Are they always for the best?

Suzanne Kamata takes up changes with a soupçon of humour as she writes of how the AI finally conceded to her husband, “Your wife is not wrong…” while Jun A. Alindogan writes of how social media can create mayhem if misused to spread fake news. Devraj Singh Kalsi resorts to sardonic humour of a darker hue as he explores ways to make a living.

Gulsara has also explored Sam Dalrymple’s Shattered Lands: Five Partitions and the Making of Modern Asia which starts with the extent of the British Empire with its western-most point at Aden and stretching in the east to Burma. There was a period from 1839 to 1867, when it stretched from Aden to Singapore[2], which was a part of Malaya, leaving out Siam or Thailand which never succumbed to colonial rule. The book starts at a later date — 1928 — and talks of the piecing of the British Empire, with questionable stances taken by historically heroic figures, thus urging a critical relook at our own past — just over the last hundred years.

We run excerpts from Nirmala Thomas’s Snowed Under, translated from Malayalam by Radhika P Menon, a poignant story about battling cancer, and Nikhil Kulkarni’s My Summer of Cricket: Three Tests, One Fan and Decades of Stories.

Our reviews include Rakhi Dalal’s take on Maithreyi Karnoor’s rather unusual stories from Gooday Nagar. Bhaskar Parichha has wandered back to non-fiction with the late Kaukub Talat Quder Sajjad Ali Meerza’s Wajid Ali Shah: A Cultural and Literary Legacy, translated from Urdu by Talat Fatima, a history that makes us reassess views on the last of the Awadhi nawabs. Somdatta Mandal has also shares a discussion on Sushila Takbhaure’s My Shackled Life, translated from Hindi by Deeba Zafir and Preeti Dewan, a narrative that showcases the resilience of the author.

This issue could not have been put together without all our wonderful contributors. Heartfelt thanks for sharing your gems with us. Huge thanks to the Borderless team too who continue to support bringing in variety, colour and reinforcing our values. Much thanks to Sohana Manzoor for the fabulous cover art and to all those who share vibrant visuals with their writing. Many thanks to our readers too who make our efforts worthwhile. Do write in with your comments.

Look forward to greeting you all again next month!

Mitali Chakravarty,

borderlessjournal.com

[1] United Liberation Front of Asom

[2] Aden was brought under the British Raj in 1839 as part of Bombay Presidency. Singapore was part of the Bengal Presidency from 1830-1867.

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Categories
The Lost Mantras

Exploring Malay Traditions

Poetry and translations from Malay by Isa Kamari

THE KRIS

Heppp!

Hold tight the hilt of faith.
Insert the base pin of endeavour into the hollow of destiny.
Adorn the ring with carvings of identity.
Gild the heart with gold on the transverse base piece.
Welcome the strong spirit on the elephant’s trunk.
Ensure the side finials are neat, although spiky.
Meditate on the rejuvenated fallen tree at the base of intention.
Sprinkle spilled rice grains on life’s damascene.
Complete the trio pattern with golden showers.
Dance in the rhythm of odd waves.
Honour loyalty of the blade on the forehead.
Make sure the thrust is sharp on target.
Once the blade is drawn out, the task must be accomplished.
Adorn the self’s sheath with morality.
Cleanse the rust of misdeeds with lime.
Accompany every move with the fragrance of perfume.
Warm up intuition with smoke from the freshness of incense.
Slip the calling of the motherland at the waist.

Heppp!

It is unforgivable for the warrior
to surrender before the fight.
It is not death before its time.
Mantras of faith and honour
will always be revered,
will always be upheld.

Ciiiss! Come, forward!

THE SEJANTAK
(Traditional Headgear)

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

The head is a guard,
the head is a warrior,
the head is a seat of kingdom,
the head is a treasury of culture, knowledge, and identity.
It’s only right to uphold it.
It’s only proper to revere it.

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

A piece of cloth to block the sun,
woven from thread to absorb perspiration,
tied in accordance with locality,
decorated in accordance with tradition.

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

Bulang Bidang is simple in readiness.
Bugis Tak Balik walks alone.
The Eagle Slices The Sky with might.
The Rooster unsheathes its spurs.
The Young Admiral conquers the ocean.
The Getam Budu is wise and intelligent.

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

Although humans are equal,
the head determines the fold and pattern of adornment.
It elevates the have-nots to the haves,
removes the yearns of the haves from the have-nots.
The head shines in resplendence, pulsates in the veins.

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

The setanjak narrates:
The Malay has a place.
The Malay has a tradition.
He moves forward with confidence, acts with wisdom,
the intuitive who and what the self is.

Aduhai, hai, hai, hai!

Beta Dendam Tak Sudah

(This Never-ending Feud)

IRON

The origin of iron is not iron.
Iron comes from the word.
The word comes from Hu!
Iron remains as iron without forging.
The forging begins in fire.
The fire melts the hardness of metal.
The metal is folded and hit repeatedly,
in layers, sieving the pure.
It needs the wild rage of fire, knocks upon knocks.

At last, the iron tells its tale
in the reveal of the damascene patterns.
The blade is dipped into water.
Ciiiiiiss! Ciiiiiiss! Ciiiiiiss!
Aspirations rise as steam,
penetrate seven layers of air.

The origin of iron is not iron.
Iron comes from Hu!

Only the expert smith
knows how to select the best iron ore.
Only the brave smith
dares to befriend the fire.
Only the knowledgeable smith
forms beautiful and beneficial damascene patterns.
The inheritance returns to its owner.
The knight returns to the other world.

Hu! Hu! Hu!
Ciiiiiiss!


THE ROUTE

Given the shortest route
that is clear and beautiful,
you procrastinate from valley to valley.

Although painful, slowly but surely,
I will scrape all meanings of Beauty
except for Truth.
Bugis Tak Balik — Malay headgear worn by warriors. From Public Domain

Isa Kamari has written 12 novels, 3 collections of poetry, a collection of short stories, a book of essays on Singapore Malay poetry, a collection of theatre scripts and lyrics of 3 music albums, all in Malay. His novels have been translated into English, Turkish, Urdu, Arabic, Indonesian, Jawi, Russian, French, Spanish, Korean, Azerbaijan and Mandarin. Several of his essays and selected poems have been translated into English. Isa was conferred the S.E.A Write Award from Thailand (2006), the Singapore Cultural Medallion (2007), the Anugerah Tun Seri Lanang (2009) from the Singapore Malay Language Council, and the Mastera Literary Award (2018) from Brunei Darussalam.

He obtained a BArch (Hons) from the National University of Singapore in 1989, an MPhil (Malay Letters) from Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia in 2008 and is currently pursuing a PhD programme at the Academy of Islamic Studies, Univeristi Malaya. His area of research is on the problem of alienation and the practice of firasat (spiritual intuition) in selected Singapore Malay novels.

The Lost Mantras is a collection that blends spirituality, Malay cultural heritage, and universal human experience. First published as part of Menyap Cinta (Love Greetings, 2022, Nuha Books KL), these poems are like a bridge between mysticism and everyday life, where traditional images (betel, jasmine, kris[1], oil lamps, setanjak[2]) are woven with Qur’anic echoes, prayers, and existential questioning. The collection carries a Sufi resonance—always circling back to longing, humility, surrender, and beauty as signs of God. The poems are not only lyrical but also function as cultural memory: they preserve Malay traditions, communal practices, and village life, while situating them in a cosmic framework of faith, sin, and redemption. The use of Malay customs, rituals, and objects is powerful: it asserts that spirituality is not abstract but embedded in heritage. This makes the collection uniquely Southeast Asian despite its universal in appeal.

[1]A dagger

[2] Malay headgear

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

Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems

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

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Contents

Borderless, April 2026

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Wild Winds and April Showers… Click here to read.

Translations

Daliya, a story by Tagore, has been translated from Bengali by Somdatta Mandal. Click here to read.

Roktokorbi (Red Oleanders), a full length play by Tagore, has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

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

Shooting Dida (Grandmother) by Kallol Lahiri has been translated from Bengali by V. Ramaswamy. Click here to read.

Jonmodin (Birthday) by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Charles Rammelkamp, A. Jessie Michael, David Mellor, Mahnoor Shaheen, John Grey, Fazal Abubakkar Esaf, Jim Murdoch, Malaika Rai, Tony Dawson, Pramod Rastogi, Debra Elisa, Ananya Sarkar, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Snigdha Agrawal, George Freek, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Rhysop Fables: More Absurd Narratives, Rhys Hughes we hear more about Aesop and Rhysop. Click here to read.

Musings/ Slices from Life

Sundus, You Are My World

Gower Bhat explores the joys of fatherhood. Click here to read.

Flavours of Hyderabad

Mohul Bhowmick visits festive celebrations in March 2026 in Hyderabad. Click here to read.

Serendipity in Vietnam

Meredith Stephens travels to more of rural Vietnam and writes about it, with photographs by Alan Noble. Click here to read.

Technology War in the House

Chetan Poduri writes of the gaps technology has created in his home. Click here to read.

A Fishy Story

Jun A. Alindogan gives an account of how an overgrowth of water hyacinth affects aquatic life and upsets the local food chain while giving us a flavourful account of local food. Click here to read.

Conditional Comfort

Anupriya Pandey muses on her daily life. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Hiring a Bodyguard, Devraj Singh Kalsi ironically glances at the world of glitz. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In Imagining Cambodian Dancers at the Royal Palace, a mesmerised Suzanne Kamata shares not just her narratives and photographs but also video of the Cambodian dancers in Phnom Penh. Click here to read.

Essays

A Cyclists’s Diary: Jaipur to Udaipur

Farouk Gulsara narrates with text and photographs about his cycling holiday. Click here to read.

Nobody Cries at Goodbyes Anymore

Charudutta Panigrahi writes of the infringement of technology over human interactions. Click here to read.

Stories

The Blue Binder

Jonathon B Ferrini shares a story around mental disability. Click here to read.

Homecoming

Oindrila Ghosal shares a story set in Kashmir. Click here to read.

Stale Flat Bread

Sangeetha G writes of a young woman’s fate. Click here to read.

When Silence Learned to Speak

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao explores a modern day dilemma. Click here to read.

Features

A review of Leonie’s Leap by Marzia Pasini and an interview with the author. Click here to read.

Keith Lyons in conversation with Keith Westwaters, a poet from New Zealand. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Scott Ezell’s Journey to the End of the Empire: In China Along the Edge of Tibet. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Tarana Husain Khan’s The Courtesan, Her Lover and I. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Indranil Chakravarty’s The Tree Within: The Mexican Nobel Laureate Octavio Paz’s Years in India. Click here to read.

Meenakshi Malhotra reviewed Radha Chakravarty’s In Your Eyes A River: Poems. Click here to read.

Rabindra Kumar Nayak reviews Bhaskar Parichha’s Odisha – 500 Years of Turmoil, Mayhem and Subjugation. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Ashoke Mukhopadhyay’s No. 1 Akashganga Lane: The First Novel about the Gig Workers of Kolkata, translated from Bengali by Zenith Roy. Click here to read.

.

Click here to access Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems

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

Categories
Editorial

Wild Winds and April Showers

From Public Domain
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, 
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne…

The Canterbury Tales (1387-1400) by Chaucer, Prologue

This is the month Asia hosts sprays of new years across multiple regions. Many of these celebrate the fecundity of Earth, spring and the departure of bleak winter months. Each new year is filled with hope for the coming year. The vibrant colours of varied cultures celebrate spring in different ways, but it is a welcome for the new-born year, a jubilation, a reaffirmation of the continuity of the circle of life. Will the wars, especially the shortages caused by them and felt deeply by many of us, affect these celebrations? Had they impacted the festivals that were celebrated earlier? These are questions to which we all seek answers. We can only try to gauge the suffering caused by war on those whose homes, hopes, families and assets have been affected other than trying to cope with the senselessness of such inane attacks. But, in keeping with TS Eliot’s observations on Prufrock, most of us continue our lives unperturbed and as usual.

Some of us think and try to dissent for peace and a world without borders with words – prose or poetry. To reinforce ideas of commonalities that bind overriding divides, we are excited to announce a poetry anthology mapping varied continents with content from Borderless Journal, Wild Winds: The Borderless Anthology of Poems. We are hugely grateful to Hawakal Publishers for this opportunity and to Bitan Chakraborty for the fabulous cover design. We invite you all to browse on the anthology which is available in hardcopy across continents.

Our issue this month is a bumper issue with the translation of Tagore’s Roktokorobi (Red Oleanders) by Professor Fakrul Alam. It’s the full-length play this time as earlier we had carried only an excerpt. The play is deeply relevant to our times as is Somdatta Mandal’s English rendition of his story, ‘Daliya’, set in Arakan. We also have also translated Tagore’s response to the idea of mortal fame and deification in poetry. Kallol Lahiri’s poignant Bengali story about the resilience of an ageing actress has been brought to us in English by V Ramaswamy.  Isa Kamari brings us translations of his Malay poems exploring spirituality through nature.

Our poetry section explores myriad issues – some with the help of nature. We have a vibrant selection of poems from Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, A. Jessie Michael, Mahnoor Shaheen, John Grey, Fazal Abubakkar Esaf, Malaika Rai, Tony Dawson, Pramod Rastogi, Debra Elisa, Ananya Sarkar, Jim Murdoch and George Freek. In one of his four poems, Charles Rammelkamp reflects on the impacts of global warming. David Mellor explores the impact of bombing. Ryan Quinn Flanagan brings us an ekphrastic poem which leaves us smiling.  Snigdha Agrawal explores a battle of kitchens on YouTube with a touch of humour and Rhys Hughes dedicates a poem in memory of Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953), which too brings a smile to the lips.

But what really grips are the fables that Hughes will be sharing with us over four months. He calls them Rhysop Fables, after the ancient ones from Aesop’s with the ancient author himself being mentioned in one of the short absurdist narratives this time.  In fiction, our regular fable writer, Naramsetti Umamaheswararao explores a modern-day dilemma, that of social media intruding into the development of children. Jonathon B Ferrini glances at resilience and mental disability while, Sangeetha G looks into societal attitudes that still plague her part of the world.  Oindrila Ghosal gives a story set in Kashmir.

From Kashmir, Gower Bhat shares a heartfelt musing on being a first time father. Mohul Bhowmick writes of Eid in Hydearbad (Hari Raya in Southeast Asia) — echoing themes from Kamari’s poems — and Anupriya Pandey ponders over the quiet acceptance of mundane life that emphasises social inequities. Jun A. Alindogan brings home issues from Phillipines. While we have stories about Vietnam from Meredith Stephens, Suzanne Kamata muses about Phnom Penh, mesmerised by Cambodian dancers.

Farouk Gulsara writes of his cycling trip from Jaipur to Udaipur bringing to life dichotomies of values and showing that age can be just a number. Chetan Poduri reinforces gaps created by technology as does Charudutta Panigrah, a theme that reverberates from poetry to fiction to non-fiction and much of it with a light touch. Devraj Singh Kalsi sprinkles humour with his strange tale about hiring a bodyguard.

Keith Lyons has brought in Keith Westwaters, a soldier-turned-poet who seems to find his muse mainly in New Zealand. We have also featured an author who overrides borders of continents, Marzia Pasini. Her book, Leonie’s Leap, has a protagonist of mixed origin and her characters are drawn out of Russia, India, Bulgaria and many other places.

We have variety in book excerpts. Scott Ezell’s Journey to the End of the Empire: In China Along the Edge of Tibet is a non-fiction about the author’s rather unconventional trip while the other excerpt is a historical fiction, Tarana Husain Khan’s The Courtesan, Her Lover and I. In book reviews, Mandal travels back a to the last century to the times of Octavio Paz (1914-1998) as she writes of Indranil Chakravarty’s The Tree Within: The Mexican Nobel Laureate Octavio Paz’s Years in India. Meenakshi Malhotra has discussed Radha Chakravarty’s second poetry collection, In Your Eyes A River: Poems and Rabindra Kumar Nayak has written of the prolific Bhaskar Parichha’s latest book, Odisha – 500 Years of Turmoil, Mayhem and Subjugation. Parichha himself has reviewed Ashoke Mukhopadhyay’s No. 1 Akashganga Lane: The First Novel about the Gig Workers of Kolkata, translated from Bengali by Zenith Roy. The review rsuggests a fascinating story that hovers on the lives of the ‘invisibles’ — the people who continue to ‘help’ the middle classes in South Asia lead a comfortable life. Acknowledging societal gaps is perhaps the start of raising consciousness so that a move can be made towards bridging them and eventually, closing them.

This rounds up our April issue. Do visit our content’s page and explore the journal further.

Huge thanks to the wonderful team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her art. They help bring together the colours of the world to our pages. Huge thanks to contributors who make each issue evolve a personality of its own. And heartfelt thanks to readers who make it worth our while to write.

Wish you all a wonderful month ahead!

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

CLICK HERE TO ACCESS THE CONTENTS FOR THE APRIL 2026 ISSUE

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READ THE LATEST UPDATES ON THE BORDERLESS ANTHOLOGIES BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK

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The Lost Mantras

Nature and Isa Kamari

Poetry and translations from Malay by Isa Kamari

From Public Domain
CRACKED MIRROR

God,
I am the cracked mirror
who tries to capture Your Light.

Every moment,
as I gather to piece Your Face,
I see my maimed life,
wounded by wild dreams,
scarred by foul experiences.

Would You even look at Your shadow
scathed by my protesting soul
and slashes of transgression,
the rebellious worship of a servant?

SNAIL

I look at the snail and ask myself,
would I be able to stop
the river of time with my heart?

For failure is the raging currents
that erode the banks of faith.

I look at the snail that struggles in the rain;
I’m ashamed of my neglect of God’s grace.

I look at the snail that slips and is washed away;
I become tearful in the drizzle that slices my heart.

I remember the snail and learn to be generous.

THE OCEAN

To know a human being is akin to loving the ocean.
It’s inadequate to just have fun at the beach,
to welcome its waves of thoughts.
It’s not enough to scavenge at the beach,
assessing the debris it leaves behind.

To know a human being is akin to revering the ocean.
It isn’t fair to envision at the beach,
to measure its expanse and depth.

Its lonesome rumble invites us to be divers,
ready to face its currents of struggles,
so that we could penetrate its castle of corals
that has long separated the bedrock of goodness from the surface—
the true character of a human being—
so that we would discover the beautiful pearls of friendship.

To know a human being is akin to embracing the ocean.
It’s impolite to just stand by the beach.

THE SEAL

The seal is a sign,
a note to validate the self,
the carved imprints of representation.
The wax is the official voice, the mark of law.

The seal is a signifier—
there is no double-talk,
no bargains or compromise,
no forked tongue. It stands firm in position.

The seal is of significance—
words cannot be retracted,
the decision delivered to the recipient,
reward or judgment passed, the door of destiny.

Opening the pages of an ancient book—
the bridge of hair split into seven strands.
Is the wax fragrant or vile?
A river of milk flows at one end,
an abyss of raging fire at the other.
What seal is stamped on the chest:
Dwellers of heaven or hell?

Everything has been ordained,
written on the leaves of the Lote Tree*.

*Lote Tree is a cedar that marks the entrance to heaven
From Public Domain

Isa Kamari has written 12 novels, 3 collections of poetry, a collection of short stories, a book of essays on Singapore Malay poetry, a collection of theatre scripts and lyrics of 3 music albums, all in Malay. His novels have been translated into English, Turkish, Urdu, Arabic, Indonesian, Jawi, Russian, French, Spanish, Korean, Azerbaijan and Mandarin. Several of his essays and selected poems have been translated into English. Isa was conferred the S.E.A Write Award from Thailand (2006), the Singapore Cultural Medallion (2007), the Anugerah Tun Seri Lanang (2009) from the Singapore Malay Language Council, and the Mastera Literary Award (2018) from Brunei Darussalam.

He obtained a BArch (Hons) from the National University of Singapore in 1989, an MPhil (Malay Letters) from Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia in 2008 and is currently pursuing a PhD programme at the Academy of Islamic Studies, Univeristi Malaya. His area of research is on the problem of alienation and the practice of firasat (spiritual intuition) in selected Singapore Malay novels.

The Lost Mantras is a collection that blends spirituality, Malay cultural heritage, and universal human experience. First published as part of Menyap Cinta (Love Greetings, 2022, Nuha Books KL), these poems are like a bridge between mysticism and everyday life, where traditional images (betel, jasmine, kris[1], oil lamps, setanjak[2]) are woven with Qur’anic echoes, prayers, and existential questioning. The collection carries a Sufi resonance—always circling back to longing, humility, surrender, and beauty as signs of God. The poems are not only lyrical but also function as cultural memory: they preserve Malay traditions, communal practices, and village life, while situating them in a cosmic framework of faith, sin, and redemption. The use of Malay customs, rituals, and objects is powerful: it asserts that spirituality is not abstract but embedded in heritage. This makes the collection uniquely Southeast Asian despite its universal in appeal.

[1]A dagger

[2] Malay headgear

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

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

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
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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The Lost Mantras

Four More Poems by Isa Kamari

Poetry and translations from Malay by Isa Kamari

INCENSE BURNER

O, incense from rock and root!
In the name of God and salutations to the Prophet,
I sprinkle you onto the charcoal ember
in the incense burner inherited from Elders.
Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh!
Billow across the span of humanity.
Sharpen our senses, elevate our spirits,
as an adornment of prayers for peace,
as an accompaniment of the dead.
Send blessings to the world of jinns and humans.
The doors of servitude open,
the purpose both are created.
You are the balm for tormented souls.
You welcome the mind into the realm of remembrance.
Focus the soul on complete devotion
to the One, the only One.
Those with vague knowledge
only see smoke of superstition,
stupefied as rose water is sprinkled.

Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh!

O, this servitude is indeed fragrant!
O, this worship is indeed mystical and intimate
to the One, the Only One.
When the kris blade is smouldered by smoke,
after washed with lime juice,
in the name of God and salutations to the Prophet,
the blade is dried and withstands rust,
preserving inheritance and the calling.
Culture and religion are intertwined,
knowledge and understanding of the sacred realm
that bless the worlds of jinns and humans.
The doors of servitude open,
creatures of the One,
servants of the only One.
O, this servitude is indeed fragrant!
O, this worship is indeed mystical and intimate!
Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh! Ssseesshh!
Allah! Allah! Allah! My Lord!

DEBT

Hey, bestower of pleasure!
Hey, the saving hand!
I think I have been to hell:
My soul is charred by sins,
My mind is bombarded by doubt.
I have rebelled against Me
for fulfilling my desire.
I think I have been to heaven:
My soul is at peace with gratitude.
My mind is still in acceptance.
Everything has its place.
Everything is measured.
I am accepted by Me,
mutual and pure.
But return my will,
return my future,
return my entire me to the world and reality,
from mere illusion, from every expectation.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live in a bit of doubt,
in a pinch of rebellion,
to learn by myself,
to be in place and measured.
Hey, bestower of pleasure!
Hey, the saving hand!
Let me pay my debt in feelings unsatiated.

THE MOUNTAIN
God, smash the mountain
in my soul.
Obliterate the entire me
with your Grace and Love.
I could no longer bear
the sufferings of alienation.

FIRASAT
(Spiritual Intuition)

People nowadays do not know firasat.
People nowadays do not use firasat.
Purity brought down from Elders—
the first intuition without veil,
the stirrings and effects of unity of experience:
Nature, knowledge, and actions unified,
moved by the eye of the soul,
nurtured by the discipline of the mind,
based on strings of reiterative knowledge,
demonstrated by signs from layers of Nature,
validated by proofs in actions and breaths.
The mind, soul, and spirit
moulded in the self and surroundings.
Ever since it is compartmentalised by thoughts
that distinguish object from subject,
dissecting issues to the atom,
limiting conclusions and acceptance,
denying possibilities and visions,
veiling light by separation of knowledge.
Is not this world a mirror?
Is not this universe a sign?
Is not this life a labyrinth?
Is not a problem interlinked?
Science, philosophy, psychology, history, and religion
are only points of view
that need to be reunified,
that need to be rejuvenated as a whole
with stirrings and effects of firasat
that will pierce layers of existence,
that will open secret doors of
the manifest, symbolic, transcendent, and immanent worlds.
Are not all that fall from the sky,
grow on the surface of the earth,
and return to the sky a belief in the unity of everything?
So, the dust that floats in the air
remembers the moment of attesting of the spirit
that is gently blown at the boundaries of seven worlds.
"Am I not your Lord?"
The Malay testifies in firasat:
"Yes, we affirm!"

Isa Kamari has written 12 novels, 3 collections of poetry, a collection of short stories, a book of essays on Singapore Malay poetry, a collection of theatre scripts and lyrics of 3 music albums, all in Malay. His novels have been translated into English, Turkish, Urdu, Arabic, Indonesian, Jawi, Russian, French, Spanish, Korean, Azerbaijan and Mandarin. Several of his essays and selected poems have been translated into English. Isa was conferred the S.E.A Write Award from Thailand (2006), the Singapore Cultural Medallion (2007), the Anugerah Tun Seri Lanang (2009) from the Singapore Malay Language Council, and the Mastera Literary Award (2018) from Brunei Darussalam.

He obtained a BArch (Hons) from the National University of Singapore in 1989, an MPhil (Malay Letters) from Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia in 2008 and is currently pursuing a PhD programme at the Academy of Islamic Studies, Univeristi Malaya. His area of research is on the problem of alienation and the practice of firasat (spiritual intuition) in selected Singapore Malay novels.

The Lost Mantras is a collection that blends spirituality, Malay cultural heritage, and universal human experience. First published as part of Menyap Cinta (Love Greetings, 2022, Nuha Books KL), these poems are like a bridge between mysticism and everyday life, where traditional images (betel, jasmine, kris[1], oil lamps, setanjak[2]) are woven with Qur’anic echoes, prayers, and existential questioning. The collection carries a Sufi resonance—always circling back to longing, humility, surrender, and beauty as signs of God. The poems are not only lyrical but also function as cultural memory: they preserve Malay traditions, communal practices, and village life, while situating them in a cosmic framework of faith, sin, and redemption. The use of Malay customs, rituals, and objects is powerful: it asserts that spirituality is not abstract but embedded in heritage. This makes the collection uniquely Southeast Asian despite its universal in appeal.

[1]A dagger

[2] Malay headgear

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