"It was a wonderful experience interacting with you and appreciate the way you have planned and executed the whole publication process within the agreed timelines.”
Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh Pal
A poet writes, to be able to remember
that there lies an unfinished poem
on his desk, waiting to be completed,
as he sits on his pot, taking a shit;
a poet writes so that he can bear the
weight of food,
crashing against his oesophagus;
a poet writes to be able to
gather the strength, to walk down the
doctor’s corridor, for a prostrate exam;
a poet writes to be able to open a
jar of pickles;
a poet writes to be able to fuck;<
Adhish Gupta
As I walked down the cobbled street, I didn’t realise when muscle memory took charge, and I stopped before a dying hibiscus. The sanguine strands of each of the five asymmetric petals yearned to show through their unique individuality, how perfect their imperfections are; its pistil was still intact, and the pollen strands were still capable of producing an offspring- I chuckled: lifeles
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