Our bags stay forever packed Notwithstanding any setbacks We are struck with wanderlust. Travelling is just part of who we are. Sure, the world may be in chaos But our knees and minds never dither When travel is on the cards.
“Too old!” they say. “Stay home. Be sensible!” Honestly, such needless wisdom Falls on deaf ears. For us, who never tire of seeing new skies, Stocked with coloured pills of different sizes, We boldly step outside.
We’ve trekked through Roy's Peak Track, With sanitiser bottles attached to our backpacks. On the way down, our knees did protest, Friendly hands did the rest. Travel, they say, brings out the best. Indeed, we have been through such tests.
“There's climate change!” experts declare, But we still carry the attitude of Columbus Questing for the unexplored, undiscovered, Where the adventurous and the young are bound. One little hiccup in Baku this May? Did we let that stop us? Not a chance. We’re off again soon to the seas This time, to savour Goan Feni.
So let the sceptics scoff and frown, We are the new age septuagenarians Those who refuse to slow down. With maps in hand, excitement in our hearts, Somewhat dented, broken in body parts, We continue to travel against all odds.
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) has published five books, including Fragments of Time, her deeply personal memoir. A lifelong lover of storytelling, she blends fact and fiction with a keen eye for detail and emotion. Her works span diverse genres, reflecting her rich experiences and insightful observations.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Ratnottama Sengupta muses on her encounter with the writings of eminent artist and writer, Dhruba Esh, and translates one his many stories, Amiyashankar Go Back Home from Bengali. Click here to read.
All around us, we hear of disasters. Often, we try to write of these as Tagore seems to do in the above lines. However, these lines follow after he says he draws solace and inspiration from a ‘serene lotus’, pristine and shining with vibrancy. He gazes at it while looking for that still point which helps him create an impact with words. That is perhaps what we can hope to do too — wait for a morning where clarity will show us the path to express not just what we see, but to find a way to heal and help. Finding parallels in great writings of yore to our own attempts at recreating the present makes us realise that perhaps history is cyclical. In Rome, new structures rear up against thousand-year walls, reflecting how the past congeals into the present.
Congealing the past into our present in this July’s issue are stories of American migrants — like Tom Alter’s family who made India their home — by Anuradha Kumar in her new non-fiction Wanderers, Adventurers, Missionaries: Early Americans in India. We feature this book with a review and an interview with the author where she tells us how and why she chose to write on these people. We have more people writing of their own wanderings. Mohul Bhowmick wanders into Cambodia and makes friends over a local sport while Prithvijeet Sinha strolls by the banks of the River Gomti in Lucknow. Meredith Stephens not only takes us to the Prime Meridien in Greenwich but also to Carnarvon which houses a science and technology centre in Australia. Devraj Singh Kalsi wanders with humour to discover gastronomical inspiration and hopes for sweeter recompense.
Taking up the theme of cli-fi, Rajat Chaudhuri’s Wonder Tales for a Warming Planetseems to bring hope by suggesting adapting to changing climes. Rakhi Dalal tells us in her review: “It dares to approach the climate crisis through the lens of empathy and imagination rather than panic or guilt. In doing so, Rajat Chaudhuri gives us what many adult climate narratives fail to deliver—a reason to believe that another world is not only possible but already being imagined by the young. All we need to do is listen.” Bhaskar Parichha has discussed the autobiography of a meteorologist and Distinguished University Professor at George Mason University, Jagadish Shukla. In A Billion Butterflies: A Life in Climate and Chaos Theory, he claims Shukla has “revolutionised monsoon forecasting.” Somdatta Mandal has written about Dilip K Das’s Epidemic Narratives: The Cultural Construction of Infectious Disease Outbreaks in India. And Gower Bhat reviews Neha Bansal’s best-selling poetry collection, Six of Cups.
With that, we wind up the contents of this month’s issue. Do pause by our content’s page to check it out in more details.
This month’s edition would not have been possible without all our contributors, our fabulous team and especially Sohana Manzoor’s artwork. Huge thanks to all of them and to our wonderful readers who make it worthwhile for us to write and publish. Do write in to us if you have any feedback. Five years ago, we chose to become a monthly from a daily… We have come a long way from then and grown to host writers from more than forty countries and readers from almost all over the world. For this, we owe you all – for being with us and encouraging us to find fresh pastures.
Quack, quack! Oh, what bad luck! Pappu the duck got stuck in the muck. Flapped his wings, kicked his feet, but that thick mud was his nemesis! He was to attend a birthday bash with ‘Papri chaat’ and scrambled eggs... his favourite. Pappu sighed, "This isn't fair! I should be partaking that birthday fare". Then a cow walked by and advised... "Try harder, Pappu!” So, he tugged and tugged With all his might and with one big SPLAT, tumbled free and waddled off to the birthday party, albeit with muddy feet
From Public Domain
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is a passionate septuagenarian writer with five published books, including Fragments of Time, her deeply personal memoir. A lifelong lover of storytelling, she blends fact and fiction with a keen eye for detail and emotion. Her works span diverse genres, reflecting her rich experiences and insightful observations.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
In Did He Ever?,Rhys Hughes gives fun-filled verses on Lafcadio Hearn, a bridge between the East and West from more than a hundred years ago. Clickhere to read.
Dolly Narang muses on Satyajit Ray’s world beyond films and shares a note by the maestro and an essay on his art by the eminent artist, Paritosh Sen. Clickhere to read.
Poetry, prose — all art forms — gather our emotions into concentrates that distil perhaps the finest in human emotions. They touch hearts across borders and gather us all with the commonality of feelings. We no longer care for borders drawn by divisive human constructs but find ourselves connecting despite distances. Strangers or enemies can feel the same emotions. Enemies are mostly created to guard walls made by those who want to keep us in boxes, making it easier to manage the masses. It is from these mass of civilians that soldiers are drawn, and from the same crowds, we can find the victims who die in bomb blasts. And yet, we — the masses — fight. For whom, for what and why? A hundred or more years ago, we had poets writing against wars and violence…they still do. Have we learnt nothing from the past, nothing from history — except to repeat ourselves in cycles? By now, war should have become redundant and deadly weapons out of date artefacts instead of threats that are still used to annihilate cities, humans, homes and ravage the Earth. Our major concerns should have evolved to working on social equity, peace, human welfare and climate change.
One of the people who had expressed deep concern for social equity and peace through his films and writings was Satyajit Ray. This issue has an essay that reflects how he used art to concretise his ideas by Dolly Narang, a gallery owner who brought Ray’s handiworks to limelight. The essay includes the maestro’s note in which he admits he considered himself a filmmaker and a writer but never an artist. But Ray had even invented typefaces! Artist Paritosh Sen’s introduction to Ray’s art has been included to add to the impact of Narang’s essay. Another person who consolidates photography and films to do pathbreaking work and tell stories on compelling issues like climate change and helping the differently-abled is Vijay S Jodha. Ratnottama Sengupta has interviewed this upcoming artiste.
Reflecting the themes of welfare and conflict, Prithvijeet Sinha’s essay takes us to a monument in Lucknow that had been built for love but fell victim to war. Some conflicts are personal like the ones of Odbayar Dorj who finds acceptance not in her hometown in Mongolia but in the city, she calls home now. Jun A. Alindogan from Manila explores social media in action whereas Eshana Sarah Singh takes us to her home in Jakarta to celebrate the Chinese New Year! Farouk Gulsara looks into the likely impact of genetic engineering in a world already ripped by violence and Devraj Singh Kalsi muses on his source of inspiration, his writing desk. Meredith Stephens tells the touching story of a mother’s concern for her child in Australia and Suzanne Kamata exhibits the same concern as she travels to Happy Village in Japan to meet her differently-abled daughter and her friends.
As these real-life narratives weave commonalities of human emotions, so do fictive stories. Some reflect the need for change. Fiona Sinclair writes a layered story set in London on how lived experiences define differences in human perspectives while Parnika Shirwaikar explores the need to learn to accept changes set in her part of the universe. Spandan Upadhyay explores the spirit of the city of Kolkata as a migrant with a focus on social equity. Both Paul Mirabile and Naramsetti Umamaheswararao write stories around childhood, one set in Europe and the other in Asia.
Do pause by our contents page for this issue and enjoy the reads. We are ever grateful to our ever-growing evergreen readership some of whom have started sharing their fabulous narratives with us. Thanks to all our readers and contributors. Huge thanks to our wonderful team without whose efforts we could not have curated such valuable content and thanks specially to Sohana Manzoor for her art. Thank you all for making a whiff of an idea a reality!
On Easter morn, with baskets bright, Four tiny tots dressed in onesies white Set out on an Easter egg hunt. All bushy-tailed and bright-eyed.
But lurking near the garden hedge, A rookie pup stood on the edge, His name? Waffles. Coat fluffy gold With one big dream: an egg to hold.
He sniffed and snorted the flower beds, Then spotted what looked like an egg! Pink and huge, dusted with gold, His to claim, his to own.
But then the tots raised a hullabaloo, “Hey, Waffles! That’s for us kiddos Drop it at once, will you?!” What followed was a tug-of-war
Four kids and a fluffy pup, With an expression that said I’m not giving up, heard a loud crack!
The egg exploded. They jumped back, Out popped a chicken Bathed in glowing light.
It twirled, it chirped. Waffles stood and stared, Then licked its face Without any protest.
‘GO…GO…’ the youngsters cried But Waffles just stood, eyes open wide. Then, ‘GO’ rang a bell in his doggy mind. He left to chase a squirrel with wise eyes.
Thus, the war of “who wins” ended on an amicable note, The tots with their baskets full Got back in time for Easter brunch.
From Public Domain
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is a passionate septuagenarian writer with five published books, including Fragments of Time (Memoirs), her deeply personal memoir. A lifelong lover of storytelling, she blends fact and fiction with a keen eye for detail and emotion. Her works span diverse genres, reflecting her rich experiences and insightful observations.
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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
Poems of Longing by Jibananada Das homes two of his poems translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Clickhereto read.
Four cantos from Ramakanta Rath’sSri Radha, translated from Odiya by the late poet himself, have been excerpted from his full length translation. Clickhere to read.
Naramsetti Umamaheswararao takes us back to school. Click here to read.
Conversation
Ratnottama Sengupta talks to filmmaker and author Leslie Carvalhoabout his old film, The Outhouse, that will be screened this month and his new book, Smoke on the Backwaters. Clickhere to read.
Offerings during Qing Ming Jie, a festival honouring ancestorsSongkran(Thai New Year) CelebrationsFestivals in April: From Public Domain
April is a month full of celebrations around the world. Asia hosts a spray of New Year festivities. Then there are festivals like Qing Ming Jie, Good Friday and Easter. All these are in a way reminders of our past. And yet, we critique things as old fashioned! So, where does tradition end and ‘outdated’ or ‘outmoded’ start? Meanwhile we continue to celebrate these festivals with joy but what happens to those who have lost their home, family and their living due to war or climate disasters? Can they too join in with the joie de vivre? Can we take our celebrations to them to give solace in some way?
In our April issue, we have stories from climate and conflict-ridden parts of the world. From Bangkok, Amy Sawitta Lefevre gives an eyewitness account of the March 28th Earthquake that originated in Myanmar. While in her city, the disaster was managed, she writes: “I’m also thinking of all the children in Myanmar who are sleeping in the open, who lost loved ones, who are feeling scared and alone, with no one to reassure them.” As news reels tell us, in Myanmar there have been thousands of casualties from the earthquake as well as shootings by the army.
From another troubled region, Pakistan, Zeeshan Nasir gives a heartrending narrative about climate change, which also dwells on the human suffering, including increase in underage marriages.
Human suffering can be generated by rituals and customs too. For instance, if festivals dwell on exclusivity, they can hurt those who are left out of the celebrations. Odbayar Dorje muses along those lines on Mongolian traditions and calls for inclusivity and the need to change norms. On the other hand, Devraj Singh Kalsi hums with humour as he reflects on social norms and niceties and hints at the need for change in a light-hearted manner. Farouk Gulsara makes us laugh with the antics of his spoilt pet cat. And Suzanne Kamata dwells on her animal sightings in Kruger National Park with her words and camera while Meredith Stephens takes us sailing on stormy seas… that too at night.
Art is brought into focus by Ratnottama Sengupta who introduces artist Haren Thakur with his adaptation of tribal styles that has been compared to that of Paul Klee (1879-1940). She also converses with filmmaker Leslie Carvalho, known for his film The Outhouse, and his new novel, Smoke on the Backwaters. Both of these have a focus on the Anglo-Indian community in India. Also writing on Indian film trends of the 1970s is Tamara Raza. Bhaskar Parichha pays tribute to the late Ramakanta Rath (1934-2025), whose powerful and touching poetry, translated from Odia by the poet himself, can be found in our translations section.
We have an excerpt from Professor Fakrul Alam’s unpublished translation of Tagore’sRed Oleanders. It’s a long play and truly relevant for our times. Somdatta Mandal shares with us her translation of Tagore’s essay called ‘The Classification in Society’, an essay where the writer dwells on the need for change in mindsets of individuals that make up a community to move forward. A transcreation of a poem by Tagore for his birthday in 1935 reflects the darkness he overcame in his own life. Two poems expressive of longings by Jibananada Das have been translated from Bengali by Professor Alam aswell. From Balochistan, we have an excerpt from the first Balochi novel, Nazuk, written by the late Syad Zahoor Shah Hashmi and rendered into English by Fazal Baloch. Among contemporaries, we have a short story by Bitan Chakraborty translated from Bengali by Kiriti Sengupta, a poignant story that reflects on gaps in our society. And a Korean poem by Ihlwha Choi rendered to English by the poet himself.
This issue has been made possible because of support from all of you. Huge thanks to the team, all our contributors and readers. Thanks to Sohana Manzoor for her fabulous artwork. Do pause by our contents page as all the content could not be covered here.
Perhaps, world events leave a sense of pensiveness in all of us and an aura of insecurity. But, as Scarlett O’ Hara of Gone with the Wind[2] fame says, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
Looking forward to a new day with hope, let’s dream of happier times filled with sunshine and change.
The sun beat down mercilessly on the railway platform of Karwar Railway Junction, where a group of rotund, saffron-clad priests huddled together, fanning themselves with cardboard pieces ripped from cartons. Their expressions were grim, their bellies noticeably less jolly than usual.
“It’s the end of an era, brothers,” sighed Pandit Upadhyaya, his triple chins wobbling like unset strawberry Jello. “First, they replaced bulls with tractors. Then, they put machines in our post offices. And now; NOW, they have brought AI into our temples!”
The sacred threads worn over their left shoulder, diagonally across the body, seemed to protest against their protruding bellies, yellowed and stringy, yet proudly declaring the caste hierarchy would soon be rendered null and void. The looks of concern on their faces screamed, “Not fair…not fair at all”.
From Public Domain
“I still cannot believe it!” moaned Pandit Shastri, wiping his forehead with the end of his dhoti[1]. “A robot priest? Is this then the end of the Kalyug[2]? Else, how can a machine do what we do?”
“They say it chants flawlessly,” added Pandit Joshi, shaking his head. “Not one mispronounced shloka[3]! No breaks for tea or chewing on betel leaves! No accidental burps during the aarti[4]!”
“Profaneness!” chorused the group, clutching their prayer beads in outrage.
“I even heard,” Pandit Sharma whispered conspiratorially, “that the AI priest does not accept dakshina[5]! No envelopes, no fruit baskets, no ghee-laden sweets. What kind of priest didn’t accept gifts?” they nodded looking puzzled.
Pandit Upadhyaya lamented. “What is our next recourse? If these AI priests take over, who will feed us? Who will drape us in silk? Who will offer us ghee-laden sweet boxes?”
A train pulled into the station just then; the platform transformed with the usual activity commencing on arrivals. Passengers stuck their heads out, looking around for tea and snacks. Pandit Sharma suddenly came up with an idea. “Not all is lost yet.”
“Meaning?” asked Pandit Joshi, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“We shall sell tea! But not just any tea—Prasad[6] Chai! Sacred! Blessed! Tea infused with the wisdom of the Vedas!”
The priests considered this. It was true. If there was one thing, they were experts in, it was making offerings with dramatic flair. Why not apply that skill elsewhere?
Within weeks, they set up stalls on the platform, offering passengers their special chai. As trains pulled in, the platform echoed with the chorus…”Om Chai Namah![7]” “Divine Masala Chai. Guaranteed to bring you good karma!” “Blessed by Brahmins, brewed with bhakti[8]!”
Soon enough, their stall was milling with passengers keen to taste this unique concoction, prepared by none other than the four Brahmin Head Priests. The spectacle of their tea-making performance, with dramatic gestures, had everyone gawking. Served in earthen cups, each sip elicited murmurs of appreciation from the passengers. The “Jai Ho” brand of tea didn’t take long to become a hot success.
Word spread like wildfire in the temple town. Business boomed. The tea, laced with just the right amount of saffron, cardamom, and sacred nostalgia, had an irresistible charm. Soon, the platforms were buzzing with satisfied sippers. Every train passing through the station had passengers stepping out to sip on this special tea.
As they counted their first earnings, Pandit Upadhyaya sighed, “Brothers, who knew AI would push us into a more profitable business?”
But then, one day, a group of railway officials swooped down on them in their khaki outfits with officious looks on their faces. One of them, a spectacled man with a voice that needed no loudspeaker, spoke, “Pardon me, Swamiji’s, but we’ve received some complaints. Your tea business is so blessed that passengers are delaying boarding their trains. This is causing major delays and loss of revenue to the railways. Moreover, it’s illegal to do business on the platform without a licence from the authorities. Can you show the vendor licence?” he asked hesitatingly.
The priests exchanged guilty glances.
The official adjusted his spectacles, “Of course, we can set that right, as we have received a special request from the high command. The Railway Ministry wishes to introduce your “Jai Ho” chai at all major railway junctions!”
Jowls dropped, mouths agape, the priests couldn’t believe they heard right. The tufts of hair on the back of their shaved heads stood erect in surprise.
Pandit Upadhyaya beamed, “Brothers, the Gods have truly blessed us! It no longer matters that non-humans have overtaken our profession, we continue to gain from selling the brew the Gods’ drink!”
As they sipped their divine brew, laughing heartily, they looked up at the temple in the distance, where the AI priest continued chanting slokas flawlessly.
“Well,” chuckled Pandit Sharma, “at least that machine can’t make chai!”
And so, from AI adversaries to tea sellers, the priests of Karwar found their unexpected salvation—not in temples, but in terracotta cups of steaming, saffron-infused chai.
From Public Domain
[1] A loose piece of cloth wrapped in the lower half of the body
[2] The current age according to Hindu eras, supposed to be dark.
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) is an author of five books and a regular contributor to anthologies and e-magazines. A septuagenarian, she has recently published a book of memoirs titled Fragments of Time, available on Amazon and Flipkart.
PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL
