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Paranoia
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About the Book
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The Acrobat Of Oblivion
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Maximum Security Guilt is a jail built around the soul brick on brick it holds back the free movement of the mind, the simple gesture of the heart. Brick on brick the sinful bricklayer learns the mastery of the engineer, of the painstaking.
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Bimb
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Sanjeev Khandekar (1958) is a poet and a visual artist. Kavita (Granthali, 1990) a collection of his early poetry and Search Engine (Granthali, 2004). These collections have been followed by three volumes of poetry – All that I Wanna Do (Abhidha Nantar, 2005), Mutatis Mutandis (2006) & (2014) and Two Poems (2006). Khandekar?s two books, ‘1,2,3… Happy Galaxy’ and collection of present poetry ‘Smiles’ (2007) are published by Abhida Nantar in 2007. In 1982, he edited Sankalp: A collection of essays by social activists in Maharashtra .It was awarded the Marathi Sahitya Parishad award. His second book, the novel Ashant Parva (Season of Unrest, 1992), concerns itself with the construction of a politically sensitive self in post-industrial India. Khandekar is based in Mumbai. -
Banaras And The Other
About the Book
Ashwani Kumar’s poems in ‘Banaras and The Other” are a mischievous irreverence turned at times to the present and at times to the past. The personal and the political, memories and nostalgia, mythical characters and contemporary parodies mix and mingle in these poems in diverse proportions to produce a rare poetic energy that belongs entirely to our times of pain and paradox. –K. Satchidanandan
Ashwani Kumar’s Banaras and the Other captivates us as a delightful romp through myth, folklore and history. Read past the revelry, however, and you will see that it engages passionately and provocatively with the fissured, schismatic scenarios of 21st century India.–Ranjit Hoskote
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The Metaphysics of the Tree-Frog’s Silence
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It is our loss that we did not know Ajithan Kurup’s work when he was alive, and we did not celebrate his brave and lonely project: to render the unsayable into language. He cannot be imitated or replaced, only admired.- Jeet Thayil
To enter Ajithan G. Kurup’s poetic world is to risk, in the words of his title poem, dancing “headlong down precipices.” It’s rare to find a contemporary poet who dares near-unattainable heights and fearful depths on dancing words – words that may sometimes seem far-fetched or invented but which, in fact, are inspired variants or archaic forms of those more usually used: “sempstress” instead of “seamstress”, “enow” instead of “enough”, “trode” instead of “trod”.-ADIL JUSSAWALLA
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Hieroglyphs
About the Book
Hieroglyphs is a translation of Sahitya Akademi Award winning collection in Marathi- Chitralipi by Vasant Abaji Dahake. It has been translated into the English by Rahee Dahake.
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Light, the Temptation
About the Book
In Zingonia’s new poems it is a similar exercise that is happening. Instead of justifying the ways of God to men, these poems seem to me to be the ways of men and women to God. This daring act of a moment of surrender to the pristine unity of every thing cements the diverse poems here into one epic of mutations and metamorphoses. In this world the persona an Algerian beggar can merge into one of Jesus. Atoms and stars partake of the same reality as a flower. The fractured fates of Shen Fu, Maurice Utrillo and Max Jacob, which are acts of recurrent human tragedy become settings of Divine Comedy. Though the thrust of Zingonia’s poems is indubitably mystical, their mysticism goes beyond orthodoxies and heterodoxies of what is generally considered mystical. Their laconic beauty has the palpability of something militantly this- worldly as if Eternity is indissolubly in love with creations of time. At this point my words want to go back to the eloquent silence of these poems. I am sure other readers of this remarkable work will find these poems as enchanting and enlightening as I did. ‘Light, the Temptation’ is not a work to be read and abandoned. It invites us to contemplate on the rich resonances of its deceptively simple expressions in order to return the world to the world, ourselves to ourselves, meanings to our world where faceless robots are marching blindly towards irredeemable emptiness. – H S Shivaprakash (an excerpt from his introductory note)