#EverydayTranslations I don't make resolutions. Only because I tend to fail at promises I make to myself. But this new year, I decided to change that. So I made myself the promise that I'd translate and post something on this blog every day. For how long? This month, maybe. Maybe the whole year. Maybe just… Continue reading ‘Falsehood’: A Translation of ‘Mithye’ by Sankha Ghosh
Three poems by Ritam Sen in translation. All of them can be found in the 2016 volume "Tomar Nistabdhata" published by Tritiyo Porisar.
A life update about three hundred words too long on which I procrastinated for two years.
Till a while ago, whenever I looked down from a high ledge, I'd retreat, afraid of a fall. Now, I enjoy looking down from this abandoned balcony without rails, strewn with blood-red broken chairs. Down below another abandoned balcony comes into view. Shadows deepen in the woods, clouds rumble in the sky. And in the… Continue reading Raai, Awake 5: Translating Ritam Sen’s Jaago Raai
It irks me to no end when environmental safeguards that are already in place are diluted to make way for 'ease of doing business'. With the EIA notification draft 2020, the Indian government is all set to effectively set aside one such environmental safeguard that is already in place.
In which I'm chased, again. This time by some custodians of Faith.
I hate how scared I am of growth. Of things changing and taking on new shapes. Of new places, of movements, of new thoughts emerging and old ones dying out. I hate how quickly the growth spreads through me, like a creeper well sustained by rain and sun. How quick the world changes, how hard… Continue reading Creepers
Just some beautiful dragons by Russian artist Arseniy Lapin that always manages to delight me.
This is a record of a dream that was strange enough to bug me years after.
We are the children of clouds, hiding from the day and waking when the Sun sets. We walk gingerly among the remains of the day; concrete, sand, and stones. We press our ears to still-warm walls, and listen to the sound of heat leaving their frames. It lingers a while, echoing through the brick and… Continue reading We the Children of Clouds
In Other Words 