The Bombay Literary Magazine

Category: Issue E3 (Dremen, Khastagir, Bawa, Chandok, Pobo, Sambhu)

Two poems – by Sambhu R.

Omphalophobia “Will you be as gods? Gaze in your omphalos”. – Ulysses, James Joyce I have a deep and mouse-eyed fear of my navel. An eyeless socket, it has something ominous about it. The tangled scar it cradles is a disfigured rosebud that yearns to open into perfection in some exotic garden. When I have […]

Two poems – by Kenneth Pobo

Petaled Geography We grow plants uncommon in Pennsylvania. Like cotton. Cotton bolls, our own bit of Georgia. Did they miss red soil? And plumeria, Hawaii in a container. Salmon-colored blossoms. We’ve never been to Hawaii so we brought it here. Red adeniums, Madagascar beside our shed. Tall Mexican sunflowers call to us each morning. Orange, […]

Three Poems – by Kashvi Chandok

How does one speak of love amnesia is an attic full of salvation, a tainted spine brewing soft waters into memory. you speak a language recently forgotten, of sentences reeking of mason jars and tombstones; weaving a sister tongue of lost identity I often wonder if you remember how warm figs taste like, or the […]

The Sanskari Bahu – by Ravneet Bawa

is first of all not a person with any edges. She has a strong middle but her boundaries are mostly fluid. She must accommodate. At first, she is expected only to be pretty. A grandmother-in-law remarks you must rouge your cheeks when the ladies of the neighborhood arrive. Then and then she must begin to […]

Threading My Eyebrows in New Orleans – Saheli Khastagir

She plucked and weeded me like her private garden. Tending to me like a page from her Koran, or like the kantha my foremothers stitched. Nine minutes of complete attention. Every stem, every root, every bend. She bends on me like a lover, a mother, a devotee. Stretching? she says, and plumes me like a […]

Three poems – by Anesce Dremen

The Pianist Pruning my words as tranquil targets, three girls aged ten trebled my response to our music instructor’s initial inquiry: “the flute felt like floating on a cloud.” Flight dispersed further away with each word uttered so I tucked infatuation to soar safely alongside daymares kept under lock and key, threaded through the bodies […]