http://theivorybell.com/wp-json/oembed/1.0/embed?url=http://theivorybell.com/2016/02/the-best-kind-of-valentine/ The shock of Kumar’s words, the stifling atmosphere in that little room, the pounding of his heart and his dry burning vision seemed to crystallize and explode somewhere in his brain. Towards morning, from his crouching position on the floor, Senaka shut his mind to Kumar’s words…..but however much he tried, he could not take…
http://michaelblumenthal.me/2008/04/links-to-information-about-records-management-with-moss-2007/ With long thick hair/waves of fulfilled desires/wishes in tangles of/a hundred beards/A living monument/Young with passion. Poetry by Sukrita Paul Kumar.
Cloudy vision mocks my sorrow/The hag that stares back at me/Or so He said, through all the time spells/I knew of Him. Poetry by Jayshree Misra Tripathi.
His fingers controlling/the fountain of water/splashing on the parched soil/The ageless Allah Buksh/Allah Buksh is a Sufi. Poetry by Sukrita Paul Kumar.
Though not drunk/And neither suffering from a stroke/My feet wobble. Poetry by Nabarun Bhattacharya.