Shankar Lamichhane Kanchhi, don’t make any lunch for me today. I am in the bathroom. I hear my son’s voice from the nearby kitchen.
PARIJAT My home stands beside the highway. More, my room stands facing the road. It has come to be a part of my daily routine
DG Sharma Translation: Raja Puniani the land where I breathed for years— how can it be called migration? immigration has become one’s own home
Saudamini Sharma Chalise Radiating akin to a firefly I parade the panache of writing flare, I sashay ahead For that supernova, Which might conjure up
Bhansingh Dhami Advertising terror and horror Among maps and minds Of different kinds Is an output of antique thoughts. Thus, humanity is no more. Are
Abeer Khaling A kid is missing from the village. He used to giggle like Christmas flower standing on the edge of field. Till yesterday
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