Geetanjali Singh Chanda

The word ‘home’, Geetanjali Singh Chanda reminds us, invokes a series of associations. We may describe our place of residence in physical terms, offering details of actual space demarcations.


Reviewed by: Mala Pandurang
Nivedita Majumdar

The poems, short stories, extracts from magazines, statements in courts, and novels in The Other Side of Terror (‘What does it mean?’ an exasperated reader asked about the title) are grouped under ‘Freedom and Terror’, ‘Revolution and Terror’, and ‘Identity and Terror’.


Reviewed by: Shobhana Bhattacharji
Pradip Acharya, Krishna Dulal Barua and Niren Thakuria

Return to the village—they advise We aren’t far from the countryside not to be able to return you don’t see the ebony flowers you see the flesh of trees. (Flesh of Trees)


Reviewed by: C.S. Venkiteswaran
Girdhar Rathi

What does Hungarian poetry translated into Hindi signify? Is it just a random selection of a language and a bunch of poets—finding a way through the translator into another language? Or is it much more than a simple language transaction?


Reviewed by: Tania Mehta
Tulsi Badrinath

This is an elegantly written book about life in upper-crust Adyar, (Chennai) where the jasmine flowers flourish, and ritual, dance and music go hand-in-hand with the routine chores of bringing up children, and running a house.


Reviewed by: Susan Visvanathan
Shanti Bhushan

Halting of voice and limb, flattering the mighty, I have been made an actor in a farce. I know not what new comedy old age will have me dance with these white hairs for grease paint. Murâri (From Anargharâghava, trans. DHH Ingalls)


Reviewed by: M.S. Ganesh