Swati’s artwork has its origin in a mass media campaign done a few years ago on the dwindling tiger population in India, and indeed in the world. In her eternal optimism, she was trying to fathom the endless joy we would get when we’d be able to push that dwindling curve upwards, and rejoice in the birth of every newborn cub.
A crow’s arrival at a man’s window every other morning worries him terribly until an old seer comes up with an interesting explanation. The man’s action following that is indeed amusing to one and all. M. Mohankumar’s poem speaks of the devout son.
Punita, a Partner at a law firm, has been invited to – and she can’t believe she’s going – a kitty party. An afternoon full of discussions around designer bags, maids and charity events… how is she going to handle it? Rrashima Swaarup Verma pens a story that is sure to make you smile.
THE LOUNGE | TURN OF THE PAGE A thread of pain or pathos resulting in compassion runs through her weaved words which becomes sweet poetry, says Aju Mukhopadhyay, in his review of Vinita’s debut book of poems, ‘Words not Spoken’.
THE LOUNGE | SLICE OF LIFE In the second part of her series exploring the path taken by the tribal chieftan-turned-Vaishnavite poet Kaliyan, or Thirumangayazhwar, Preeti describes her journey to the temples whose Lords the Azhwar sang about, in Tirunarayur, Tirukannapuram and Nagapattinam. All along, be prepared for a treat of the Azhwar’s poetry translated into English, and Preeti’s exquisite commentary around them.
Presenting Spark’s May issue – Medley! Read a wonderful mix of poetry, fiction and non-fiction on the widest range of topics this month – our contributors try to make you laugh, sympathise, nod in agreement and feel for their characters. We hope you enjoy this issue as much as we did putting it together. Off you go!
Sundar Singh has tremendous luck when it comes to gambling, but his wife won’t hear of it. So when Mohanraj invites Sundar Singh to a game of chance, Singh reluctantly agrees, but is setting himself up for something he didn’t gamble for.
In a poem laced with humour, M. Mohankumar writes about a man who earns a nickname, thanks to the Jubba he wears as a matter of habit.
