Nazrul’slyrics ofMor Ghumogore Elo Monohor (In my Sleep, Came the Enchanting One) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.
Four of his ownMalay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.
The Heartless, a Balochi story by AbdulQayum Sarbazi, has been translated by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.
Dragonfly 2 has been composed and translated from Korean by Ihlwha Choi. Click here to read.
Tagore’s poem, Amra Choli Somukhpane(We Look Forward and March), has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Clickhere to read.
Pandies Corner
Songs of Freedom: Pink Dreams is an autobiographical narrative by Priyanka, written and compiled by Deeksha Vats. These stories highlight the ongoing struggle against debilitating rigid boundaries drawn by societal norms, with the support from organisations like Shaktishalini and Pandies. Clickhere to read.
Larry S Su, who migrated from a mud cave in Shaanxi province to America, shares his story of the changes he sees during three visits to his home and muses on the gaps he has observed between these two places. Clickhere to read.
Summer, Dune in Zeeland by Piet Mondrain (1872 – 1944)
Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past.
‘Burnt Norton’, Four Quartets (1941) by TS Eliot
If we look back in time, we have a better life than that of our ancestors. Though conflicts rage and climate change is a reality that we all dread, it can safely be said, we have progressed beyond the imagination of those who lived a hundred years ago. The fact that some books from the past still reverberate with echoes of what the present holds says much for the outliers or authors who could think out of the box. Despite this complex intermingling of ideas and times, perhaps the world will change more now than before. We do not know anything for sure though experts are always predicting a future that for most of us remains unknown. What we can present is our own estimate of what can be and a definite assertion of what is. Truth as such is a matter of perception. That complicates it further. However, one of the changes that is definitely here to stay is climate change and our changing environment. Given that this is the month that homes World Environment Day, we have a smattering of writings that revolve around nature and also the human spirit that defies age.
We have featured a writer who revels in nature and is an ageless voice that bridges multiple cultures, Ruskin Bond. As he turned ninety-two last month, he published multiple new books. We have an excerpt from one of them, Scenes from the Magic Mountain: Five Seasons in the Mussoorie Hills and Beyond, a brilliant collection of snapshots of his interactions with nature over time — be it frogs, snakes or just trees. Some of the vignettes are humorous and some, as all classics are, thought provoking. Bond puts into words how he chose to work in Landour (a small town in Himalayas) and continued to write from there for sixty years. He talks of the spell the mountains cast on him, “I like to think that I have become a part of this Magic Mountain; that by living here for so long, I can claim a relationship with the trees, wild flowers, even the rocks that are an integral part of this landscape.” The other book excerpt is a contrast to Bond’s, a non-fiction called Burnout Highway by Anmol Diddan. It explores the collective suffering of stress at work where achievements distance humans from nature and a fulfilling life and urges readers to be open to changes.
In keeping with the theme of environment, Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Stephen Alter’s The Fragrance of Rain: A Brief History of the Monsoon. He tells us: “The Fragrance of Rain is much more than a history of weather. It is a meditation on nature, culture, memory, and belonging… Like the season it celebrates, the book is refreshing, nourishing, and lingering in its impact…” While Rakhi Dalal expresses her delight with Shyam Manohar’s The Cold War of Sadanand Borse, a novella translated from Marathi by Jerry Pinto, Meenakshi Malhotra revels in Giti Chandra’s debut book of poems, Setting Traps for Light.
In translations, Professor Fakrul Alam has captured the flavours of Nazrul’s Bengali lyrics, which also echo of the rainy season or monsoons. Isa Kamari brings to us more of his Malay poems in English and Ihlwha Choi shares a rendering of his Korean poem, ‘Dragonfly 2’, into English. One of Tagore’s poems from Balaka (Flight of the Cranes, 1916) has found its way into this issue after being translated. We also have a touching Balochi story around social gaps from the late Abdul Qayum Sarbazi, brought to us in English by Fazal Baloch.
Hughes has continued sharing his short fables, which are absurd but also, comical! A sensitive story about the natural world mingled with Maori concepts by Keiran Martin seems so much in sync with the oceans while Jeena R Papaadi has woven a strange narrative located in a land that only one man could visit. Plamen Vasilev shares a human-interest story set in Europe and Rabiya Rehman takes us to Lahore in quest of a missing destination! Naramsetti Umamaheswararao’s narrative takes us back to a village that opted for trees, thus enriching the environmental lore in this issue.
We have a real life heart rending story from a young girl in our Pandies Corner, written and related by Deeksha Vats, based on the story told by a victim of familial violations and violence.
Our non-fiction section homes Larry Su’s essay on how his life took him from a rural mud cave in Shaanxi province to the glamour of Chicago. Reflecting on the changes he has experienced on his rare visits to his original homeland, Su muses on the cultural and socio-economic gaps he has observed between the two places. Charudutta Panigrahi – as if in direct opposition — shares similarities between two diverse geographies.
Suzanne Kamata explores a custom which may not be that eco-friendly in her column from Japan. Jun A. Alindogan brings home the impact of climate disasters while dwelling on blessings with his narrative about a narrow escape from the Typhoon Ondoy (2009). While Meredith Stephen writes of sailing to Timor Sea with photographs by Alan Noble, Farouk Gulsara takes us on a cycling adventure around the mountains of Titiwangsa. In another musing, he also explores the idea of good and evil in a sardonic tone while Sai Abhinay Penna dwells on the grandeur and vastness of the universe over his morning jog. Gowher Bhat writes of a man for whom age seems to be just a number as he publishes his debut book at 93! One wonders at the frequency of such occurrences — we have writings about two authors above ninety in the June issue. In contrast, Devraj Singh Kalsi brings in mortal fears while writing of visiting doctors with a soupçon of humour – some of it directed at himself.
Perhaps, laughter is really the best medicine to keep well! Ruskin Bond makes us laugh and writes of nature in a way that touches hearts and makes us forget the contrasting glitzy world, where we suffer stress and burnout. Our environment makes a difference, doesn’t it?
With that we wrap up our June issue. Huge thanks to our fabulous team, especially Sohana Manzoor for her wonderful artwork. To all our contributors, heartfelt thanks — we are because you are. And gratitude to our readers who make it worth our while to write and publish here.
We will next meet you during the monsoon months of South Asia though, near the equator, it rains almost every day and, in the Southern Hemisphere, it will be peak winter!
Noemi traced the rim of her wine glass, the condensation leaving damp circles on the worn wooden table. The bistro buzzed with Friday night energy – the clinking of glasses, bursts of laughter, the low hum of conversations – but to Noemi, it all sounded muffled, distant. Opposite her sat Liam, his hazel eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, clouded with a seriousness that mirrored her own.
They’d been coming to this exact table, in this exact corner, every Friday night for the last seven years. Seven years of shared secrets, whispered dreams, and unwavering support. Seven years of a friendship so profound it had become the cornerstone of their lives. But tonight, the familiar comfort felt brittle, fragile, threatening to shatter like cheap glass.
“So,” Liam began, his voice a low rumble, “you’re really going through with it.”
Noemi nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I am. I have to.”
“Even after everything?” He gestured vaguely, encompassing years of shared history with a single, sweeping motion.
“Especially after everything,” Noemi corrected softly. “Staying would be… unfair. To both of us.”
The ‘it’ Liam referred to was a job offer. A dream job, really, working as a curator’s assistant at a prestigious art gallery in Florence. Noemi, a struggling artist who supplemented her income by teaching art classes to unruly teenagers, had never dared to dream of such an opportunity. It was everything she had ever wished for, yet accepting it meant leaving Liam behind.
Their friendship had always been an intricate dance, a delicate balance of platonic affection and unspoken longing. They understood each other in a way no one else ever had, anticipating each other’s thoughts, finishing each other’s sentences.
There had been moments, particularly in their early twenties, where the lines blurred, where the possibility of something more hung heavy in the air.
But fear, or perhaps a deeper understanding of the potential for catastrophic heartbreak, had always held them back. They were afraid of ruining something so precious, of losing the unwavering support and unconditional love they found in each other’s friendship.
“Florence,” Liam sighed, running a hand through his perpetually messy brown hair. “It’s a long way to go for art.”
“It’s a long way to go for a chance,” Noemi countered, finally meeting his gaze. She saw a flicker of pain in his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through her. “Liam, you know I’ve always wanted this. I can’t let fear hold me back anymore.”
“Fear?” He scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Is that really what you think this is about? Fear? What about us, Noemi? What about what we have?”
Noemi winced. This was the conversation she had been dreading. The one where they laid bare the unspoken truths that had hummed beneath the surface of their friendship for years.
“What dowe have, Liam?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “A carefully constructed comfort zone? A safety net woven from years of shared experiences? We’re so afraid of rocking the boat that we’re content to drift aimlessly in the same stagnant waters.”
Liam leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight. “That’s not fair. We have something real, something special. You can’t just throw that away for a… a pipe dream.”
“It’s not a pipe dream, Liam! It’s a chance to finally pursue my passion, to grow, to evolve. And,” she added, her voice softening, “it’s also a chance for you to do the same.”
He looked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been stuck in that dead-end accounting job for five years, Liam. You hate it. You dream of opening your own brewery, but you’re too afraid to take the leap. You’re comfortable, Liam. Too comfortable.”
Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Noemi held up a hand, stopping him. “I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m terrified. But I also know that if I stay here, if we keep doing the same thing, week after week, year after year, we’ll both end up resenting each other. We’ll resent the missed opportunities, the unfulfilled dreams, the unspoken words.”
Silence descended upon the table, broken only by the clatter of cutlery and the muffled conversations around them. Liam stared at his hands, his expression unreadable. Noemi held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything.
Finally, he looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “So, this is it then? This is goodbye?”
“No,” Noemi said firmly. “This isn’t goodbye. This is… a new beginning. For both of us. We’ll still be friends, Liam. Maybe even better friends. But we need to let go of this… this comfortable stagnation. We need to allow each other to grow, even if it means growing apart for a while.”
Liam managed a weak smile. “Easier said than done.”
“I know,” Noemi replied, reaching across the table to take his hand. His skin was warm and familiar beneath her fingertips. “But we’re strong, Liam. Stronger than we think. We’ve been through so much together. We can handle this.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, holding hands, absorbing the weight of their decision. The bustling energy of the bistro seemed to fade away, leaving them alone in their quiet corner, grappling with the bittersweet reality of change.
“So,” Liam said, finally breaking the silence, “Florence, huh? You’ll send me postcards, right?”
Noemi laughed, a genuine, heartfelt laugh that eased the tension in the air. “Of course, I will. And you’ll come visit. We can explore the Uffizi together, drink Chianti, and you can tell me all about your brewery.”
Liam grinned, a hint of his old mischief returning. “Deal. But only if you promise to try my experimental Grapefruit IPA[1].”
“Grapefruit IPA?” Noemi wrinkled her nose. “Sounds… interesting.”
“Trust me,” Liam said with a wink. “It’s an acquired taste. Just like our relationship.”
The weeks leading up to Noemi’s departure were a whirlwind of packing, goodbyes, and last-minute errands.
Liam was her rock, helping her navigate the logistical nightmare of moving to a new country, offering a steady presence amidst the chaos. He drove her to the airport, his face a mask of forced cheerfulness.
As she stood in the departure gate, tears welled up in her eyes. She turned to Liam and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
“I’m going to miss you too, El,” he replied, his voice equally thick. “But you’ve got this. Go make your dreams come true.”
Noemi pulled back, wiping away her tears. She looked at Liam, really looked at him, for what felt like the last time. She saw the years of friendship etched on his face, the unwavering support in his eyes, the love that had always been there, unspoken, yet undeniable.
“I will,” she said, her voice filled with newfound determination. “And you go open that brewery, Liam. Don’t let fear hold you back.”
He nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I won’t.”
Noemi turned and walked through the gate, her heart pounding in her chest. As she boarded the plane, she looked back one last time. Liam was still standing there, watching her, his hand raised in a silent farewell.
The first few months in Florence were challenging. Noemi struggled to adjust to the new culture, the language barrier, and the demanding workload at the gallery. She missed Liam terribly, their Friday night dinners, their easy banter, their unwavering support.
She sent him postcards, as promised, filled with descriptions of Renaissance art and quirky Italian customs. They Skyped regularly, sharing updates on their lives, their triumphs, and their struggles.
One evening, as Noemi sat in her tiny apartment, surrounded by art books and half-finished paintings, her phone rang. It was Liam.
“Hey,” she said, her heart leaping with joy at the sound of his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he replied, his voice sounding different, more confident. “I have some news.”
“What is it?” Noemi asked, her curiosity piqued.
“I quit my job,” Liam announced.
Noemi gasped. “You what? You quit your job? Are you crazy?”
“Maybe,” he chuckled. “But I couldn’t do it anymore, El. You were right. I was stuck. I was comfortable. And I was miserable.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Noemi asked, her voice filled with anticipation.
“I’m opening the brewery,” Liam said, his voice brimming with excitement. “I found a great space downtown. It needs a lot of work, but it has potential. I’m calling it ‘The Letting Go Brewery’.”
Noemi’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s amazing, Liam! I’m so proud of you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, El,” he said softly. “You inspired me. You showed me that it’s okay to take risks, to chase your dreams, even if it means leaving something comfortable behind.”
“We inspire each other, Liam,”Noemi replied, her voice choked with emotion. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Yeah,” Liam agreed. “That’s what friends are for. And maybe… maybe someday… more than friends.”
Noemi smiled, a slow, knowing smile. “Maybe,” she said. “But for now, let’s just focus on our dreams. Let’s focus on letting go.”
A year later, Eliza returned to her hometown for the grand opening of “The Letting Go Brewery.” The place was packed with people, friends, family, and curious locals, all eager to sample Liam’s experimental brews.
Noemi stood in the corner, watching Liam work the crowd, his face beaming with pride and happiness. He looked different, more confident, more alive. The dead-end accountant was gone, replaced by a passionate entrepreneur, a man who had finally found his purpose.
As Liam caught her eye, he excused himself from a conversation and walked over to her.
“So,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Noemi replied, taking a sip of his Grapefruit IPA, “that you’ve created something truly special. And I think… that it was worth letting go.”
Liam smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers.
“Me too, El,” he said softly. “Me too.”
And as they stood there, surrounded by the joyful noise of the brewery, Noemi knew that they had finally found their way back to each other, not as the comfortable, complacent friends they had once been, but as two individuals who had dared to chase their dreams, to let go of the familiar, and to embrace the possibility of a love that was stronger, deeper, and more rewarding than anything they had ever imagined.
They had learned the art of letting go, and in doing so, they had discovered the true meaning of friendship and love.
