The Bombay Literary Magazine

New Stuff

Category: Issue D8 (Parvataneni, Hussain Parray, Rao, Khetarpal, Joshi, Yanthan)

Library of Olan – by Prashant Parvataneni

Library of Olan The Library of Olan turned upside down when bombs of tear gas were thrown into its dusty rooms. The intention was to smoke out those who refused to leave their obsession of biting into tomes, and licking the pages of ancient erotica. To fill the library with tears, interrupt their exile with […]

Two poems – by Kuhu Joshi

The day of the fitting I enter the basement of the Spinal Injuries Hospital. It is white, walls and a bed and a curtain. Mom is holding my hand. There is a doctor, also in white. He does not look at me. He says namaste to Mom. He dips his hand into a tub of […]

Three poems – by Beni Yanthan

Delicious Vowels This is how you sound. Like strips of indecipherable syllables floating inside a lullaby. This is how you taste. Like the first breath of air a drowning man sips when he is finally free of the echo of the sea. This is how you move. Like spoken-word poems that carry the finality of […]

Postmortem – by Devanshi Khetarpal

Postmortem Listen: imagine your body next to mine. Think of the knife that drew my thin spine open. I am in a room so cold and lonely like the slow negative of a stone breaking into water. One evening I asked you how to die this slow: smooth, bent along the edges of my grave. […]

Three poems – by Mani Rao

Writing on the Wall On the heels of the siren A hissing undertow Back-bending sea-oats Palm fronds frisked Static in the aquarium White knuckles on the horizon surely higher than our roof Horseshoes hung down on the beach Will cavalry recede Between magnet shore and magnet moon Won’t ocean float Sorry fish so sorry garden […]

Two poems – by Ashaq Hussain Parray

Home no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark… —Warsen Shire Home is an arrested metaphor suspended between my trust in clouds that shake their head when it rains and the news feed I scroll endlessly like my grandfather’s afternoon stroll down the abandoned lanes of faith. Home is a suspected […]