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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 3, September 2014


Shloka Shankar
Bangalore, Karnataka, India


Sitting by the windowsill, I watch the clouds turn pewter with just a hint of orange as the sun begins to set. A cool breeze caresses my loosely tied tresses and the curtain flutters rhythmically, almost keeping time with my shifting thoughts. Before long, the sun-dried earth gets its first taste of a raindrop, splattering and stirring a thousand memories in me. Each blurring into the other, till finally, I feel this sense of warmth . . . listening to the dripping eaves.

snail’s pace—
only this whirring fan
and me



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