Exc
e l s i o r spring
Noteverythingiswhatitappearstobe. Theairstirs.Areflectionflickers,thendisappears. Andsuddenly,thestoryshifts. Perspectiveislessaboutwhat’sseenandmoreabout whereyou’restandingwhenyouseeit. Itchangeswithtime,withdistance,withasecondthought. Whatfeelscertaininonebreath,unravelsinthenext.
Thepiecesgatheredhereofferangles. Acollectionofdistortionsandrevelations. Somemayfeeloddlyfamiliar, likememoriesyouneverclaimed. Othersmayleavesomethingunresolved. Letthempassandstirthesettleddustofyourunderstanding.
Andasyouturneachpage, wehopesomethinginyouturnstoo.
Archisha &Sanjna
Cover Imageby AvniYedlarajaiah
Image by Avni Yedlarajaiah Prologue Image
Tabl
Dece
SongofSails
By Evan Bekos
BlueSkies thebeautifulblueskies theFather-Sonduo learningtosail enjoyingthesun'sradiation
NewEnglandvibe whatanicedayto... sail buildadeeperrelationship withamanyoucallafather butmoreimportantly youridol
Thewaterisrestless wefeelatpeace twothingsonthemind Sailing and Father
Amomentyouwanttokeep fortherestofyourlife butitisslippingsofast
Asongofsails
Beautifulblueskiesupabove
MadameX
By Mikaela Villajoaquin
writteninresponsetothepainting Madame X byJohnSingerSargent
Istand,notasawomanbutasamyth poisedwiththeprecedenceofscandaland gracedwithafigureofwhispers
Herverypresence-aspark,whichignitestongues Andherporcelainskin-abeacon,exclaimingfornotice
Herravenousdress,teasingtheboundary betweenprosperityandtemptation, isburnedbytheirvenomousremarks
Menwhosegazesarefixedwithalustfulspirit andtheircovetouscounterparts starewithyearningadoration
Sheisinvitingbutneverinsisting, thoughtfulbutnevernurturing
MadameX, Youarethepinnacleofelegance, anexampleoftimelessbeauty, andforeveretchedintothecanvasbythemaster'sbrush
December’sWishes
By Aanya Chadha
OhDecemberinyourchill
Youmanagetotransformtheworldintoaserenewonderland Coveringwhatwasoncegreenintoblanketsofwhite
Twinklinglightsornamentourhomes WhileyourspiritofChristmasfillstheworld Unitingfamiliestosharemomentsoflaughterandlove
AsIcelebrateanotheryear, Yourwarmthgracesmybirthday,sweetandbright, Eachcandle’sglowoverabigchocolatecake Anewwishforme!
Outsideyoudancearoundwithsnowflakesfallingfromthesky Whileweembraceeachother'spresenceinsideourwarmhomes Snowangels,iceskating,sledding, Findingwonderinthesimplestthingsyoubringus
Witheachyear,Ifindmoreandmoretolove Yourbeauty,thewarmthofcelebration, AndthemagicthatyouDecember,bringtome
WhyIMoveForward
By Davi Soares
Ispeak
Likethere’snotomorrow Iact
LikeIneverlivedthroughsorrow Ispend
LikeI’llneverneedtoborrow
Butdeepdown Ihavefears,too. I’mamess
NoLanceyFoux,butIreallyamamess Somethoughtscan’tgetoutofmyhead Dopeoplereallylikeme?
I’dneverknow
ButI’lltrytodecimatethesethoughts
Withaflamingbowandarrow Bowandarrow,whatIshidaused Tofightforthepeopleheloved
AndnomatterhowmuchIstrugglewithmyself I’llneverstopfightingforthepeopleIlove Tolearnistofail
Tosucceedistolearn
NomatterhowmanytimesIhavefailed Youkeepmegoing Yes, You, Youaretheenginetomycar Youarethelovethatwantsme
TheIris
By Niara Beckwith writteninresponsetothepainting Irises byVincentVanGogh
Eventhoughthisgardenisfullofmanydifferentflowers
Thereisonlyonetypeofflowerthatisnoticed,theIris
Byfirstglance,youmightnotrealizethereareotherflowersinthisgarden Butifyouactuallytakeachancetolookaroundyou’llseethatthereare marigolds poppies
moonflowers
That’swhatourfriendshipwaslike Iwasamarigoldand ShewasanIris
Alwaysthecenterofattention
Takingupspace, butnotallowingenoughairforanyoneelsetobreathe Alwaystheprettiest,loudest,andtallestinego
Ifeltbadforher HerroleastheIriswastoalwaysappearperfect
Inthisgarden,everyoneplacedtheIrisonapedestal
Nooneeversawwhentheflowerwaswilting
Butifyouinspectedcloselyyou’dseetheIris’spetalsslowlydying Cripplingunderthepressureofalwaysbeingseen
Hot,violentsurges carefullyanalyzeimperfections: curlsandchaos wherethereshouldbelines, strays thatdonotconform.
Fueledbyacurrent thatissharpandelectric, myfuryintensifies. Fiercelygrabbing atanypartthatseemstofrayoutward.
Andthesingeingsizzles becomesicklysweet.
Yetmyheadfeelssofuzzy, soimmenseandintense. Th aw cann sout. a r.
TheSeaandMe
By Aanya Chadha
Thereisaplacewheretheoceanwhisperstothesky, Thesandsinkssoftlybetweenmytoes. Eachgrainholdsamemory,atime,aplace Onegrainrecallsflyingonplaygroundswingswithmysister, Anotherbringsbackthewarmscentofgrandma’scookies.
AsIgazeatthefieldbelow,Idriftinaseaofmemories, Iwasstandingabovetheebbandflowofpast,present,andfuture. Thebreezeaboveletsoutasoftsigh,carryingechoesoflaughter.
Wavesdancearoundme,shimmeringwiththesecretsofmermaidsbelow. Seashellsbaskinthegoldenlightabove; eachiswhisperingitstale,wovenfromthesea'stimelessdepths.
Duskrevealstheheavensofyearning; afterglowtakesovertheazureasshadowsstretch. Sheapprisedsecretsofdreamsyettobefulfilledoftheworld.
Thestarsfinallyarrivelikeoldfriendsthroughawindowofmemory. TheoceansingsmealullabyasIdriftaway.
AsmyeyessinktothebottomoftheseaIfeellikeachild Youngandfree Iseemyselfswimmingtothebottomoftheocean, pickingupallthetreasuresIcanfind SoIgathermypiratetreasuresfromthehiddencoves; Ipackupmytrinketstosailtheendlessblue. Intheembraceofthetides,IfindwhoIam— awash,Ichoosetobreathe.
Istillchasethehorizon,wheretwilightmeetsthesea, remindingmeofthedayswhentimefeltinfinite.
By Julia Opong-Marfo
writteninresponsetothephotograph Ghanaian Man In London,
trulyacircusfrommyeyes thiscitybreathesin,thensighs eachstepofahurriedheel, thenhummingofafluorescentsky facesblurlikelongexposure mygazelookstoseeifthiswill everpause however,thisrhythmnever breaks anever-endingcause blackandgreysuitsreinforce themutedtones whilefloralfrocksargue withtheirmelancholy lostinawhiteofsea there standsafigureinwovenhistory theloosethreadinthis patternedtapestry
IwatchasIfaceanewchapter IwatchasIturnthepage fromdirtroads, streetvendors, thehotsuncallingmyname tounfamiliarskies,holdingthem hostage replacingwhatIknew withbrightadvertsandbrightred busses fromsippinghotMilo withagegebreadeverymorning tofreezingmyhandswiththese iceddrinks theseconcernedgazeswatch meconstantly,dusktildawn dotheynotseemygoldensoul, ratherthanmyskin?
Piccadilly
Circus,artistunknown sheattemptstounderstandmy outerwear inside,yearsofGhanaianroyalty haveadornedthiscloth theothercompareshersandals tomy ahenema yethandmadebymymother, passeddownfrommyfather thegentlemanquestionswhyI bearapurse Butmustitmaskmymasculine features? whymustitallchange? frombeststudenttooutcast whymustIchange? moreprofessionalmeansImust walkintothisbarbershop Tocutdownmy“bush” tosuffertheaftermathofa sharpfeelingandscentof aftershave orrathermyhearttearing,like howIamfrommyhome mustImutemyvividcolors andblendintothemutedtones? Iholdanewspaperratherthanmypurse andIdon’tstop,Igo? likeyou,ALLofyou,foryou
hereIam,inthemiddleofthiscircus thecrowd’spresencelingers andblurs I’llremainthesymbolthatwon’t conform themessagetothese generationsnevertochange andforgettheirhome Weshallstaythecalminthe endlessstorm
Autumn
By Nicole Cheteyan-Kane
Thetreesandbranchesswayinagentlebreeze Iwanderaroundmymindatease
Theleavesarechangingcolors Ithinktheywouldlookgoodpaintedinwatercolors
Thesunisshiningkindly Icontinuetowanderblindly
Therocksinthepathglimmerwetwithrain Ihavenothingheretogain
Thecloudsdriftslowlyinthesky Iknowtheywon’tbegintocry
Thecreekramblesbychattingquietly
Ifeelfarawayfromsociety
Thebirdsrespondinkind IfindIdon’tmind
UntilIfeelmyselfgoblind Ihearabellchime
WhenIregainmysight Ilookupatthenight
Thesunisnomore
Thetreesreachout,asittodragmeaway
Theleaveswhisperssoundcruelasiftotortureme
Thecloudssinkintofogasiftosuffocateme
Thecreekstartsfloodingasiftodrownme
Thebirdswhistle,asiftodrawmeoutofhiding Itrytorun
ButIcannotmove Iuseaflashlight
Butallitdoesitreflectglowingeyes
Ifeeltheshadowsdrawnearer
ButIdon’tknowwhattheyare Iseetheirsilhouettes
ButallIseeareshadows Ihearthebellagain
Allatoncetheforestlurches
Theshadowsswarmmyvision
Thebranchesbarricademymovements
Theleavesburnmyears
Thecloudsfillmylungs
Thecreekfloodsmybody
Thebirdscometoscavenge
Andsuddenly,thereisnothing
BarelyBreathing
By Olukayomide Odusote
IthinkI'mafraid
Ormaybejustinpain
BecauseIleftmythoughtsuntamed Myanxietiesunnamed Andmyselftogrowinsane "EverythingIwantedhasleftme" IswhatIsaidtokeepmyself-pity EvenwhenIbecamethekey Thatunlockedmysafesteverything. SoIfilledtheholewithanewerform
Bysaying"Itwasmyfaultallwastorn" AllbecauseIalwaysneededsomethingtomourn Asexhaustingtheobviouscanbe I'mstillreachingforwhatIcan'tsee. Myenergyissomehowexisting Eventhoughmyexcusesareonlytiring Allwhilemyeverythingissomewherefollowing Scaringmysanityintoleaving Andmyselfbarelybreathing. ButIhordeitalltomyself
ForthefearofdroppingitwhenIaskforhelp AndsoIleaveitonthefarthestplaceonmyshelf OnlytojusteatitlaterwhenIfindsomeonetotell Itgrowsandpoisonsinsideofme Fillingwithtoomuchtoevensee SoanendIwishfor,andtomyselfIplead ButI'mforcedtostayandneverflee NowIholdmysecretssafeinside Whileresentingmychoices,butbelievingmylies Untilitallstartstopouroutmyeyes. Itfloodsovernow
Thenevaporatesintoacloud
Thatbecomesastormtomythoughts,notasloud Itlingersinandovermyhead Foggingmysight,faceheavyaslead
Suffocatingairpacifiesallfeelings
Fleetingmoments
Isallwehave
Fleetingmoments andthenit’sallinthepast
Daysbleedintooneanother
Likeawatercolorpainting
StarryNight
MonaLisa
TheKiss
GirlWithaPearlEarring
TheGallery
By Aanya Baid
thesower lascapigliata ladywithfan thelittlestreet
The spaces in between thesharedlaughter thecoffeebrewing thelongcarrides thepoembeingwritten
Anartistisrememberedbytheirgreatworks
Theonesthatstandout
Theonesthataredifferent
Thepaintingsthatmakeittothegallery, aretheonesthataredeemedworthy
Thetasselturned
Theringonyourfinger
Thecandlesblownout
Thevacationstaken
Butthereareathousandotherpaintings
Thatareunseen
Athousandotherpaintings
Thataretossedaside
Fleetingmomentsisallwehave Fleetingmomentsthenit’sallinthepast 3hourstillthebellrings 2daystillFriday 1yearleftofschool
Thecountdownneverstops
Andthecyclerepeatstonoend
Butyet inourhaste
Weforgettotreasurethesubstanceofour lives
Fleetingmomentsareallwehave, fleetingmomentstillit’sallinthepast
Deeper
By Olukayomide Odusote
Myballofbluegivesoffapurplehue
Whenmixedwiththeredthatleakedfrommyforehead
Aredthatbleedsananswerdarkerthanme
Ananswerthathasmeagainstmydeepestbeliefs
Acolorwhoseshadeleftmenewlymade GivingmesensewheneverItalkedinpasttense
Lookingatitgavemyeyesanewtint
Whileholdingittightburnedmyhandswithitslight
Butwhilemypalmsweretornitkeptmymindfairlywarm
AsIcontinuedtolistendeeplyintomyocean
CloserIheldmyball,thedeeperIcontinuedtofall Intoaseaofthoughtsthatfedmymindalot
ThemoreandmoreIcontinuedtopour
Thisoceanoftearsclogsmyears
Nothingisbettertome,whenwhatIhavelet’smebe Butasbrightasitseems,onlydarknessitbrings
IknewI’dhavetopretendwhenaskedifI'mokaywiththisend fallingdeeperinthoughtforgettingallIhadtaught
Butwhat'sthepointofswimmingupwhenthewaterfloodsalltoomuch
Fillinginandoverme,forcingtoletgoandfallfreelyintothedeep
MySmallGlassHouse
By Aanya Chadha
Whatasmall,roundworldsurroundsme. I’msafehere. I’mwarmhere.
There'saharsh,scaryrealworldoutthere.
MydaysdriftbyasIcircletherocksbelow, thealgaeacrossthewallsaroundme. Thesamesightseveryday: sofa,television,andthepaintingonthewall.
Untilit’stime. Iawaken. Theskyrainsfood perfectflakesortinypebbles.
Myfavoritetimeofday. ItistheonetimeI’mnoticed.
August14th,1947
Partition
By Aanya Baid
ThedinnerIcarefullymade2hoursearliersitshalfeatenonthetableaswestandwith ourfacespressedagainsttherustingwindow.Everyminutethatwestandthere,the shoutsbecomemoreviolent,theriotsgetmoreaggressive,andthesoundofglass breakinghappenssooftenthatitdoesn’tphasemeanymore.10minutespass,and insteadofsubsiding,theshoutsonlygetlouder.IknowwhatIshoulddo butIcan’t. Iwon’t.10moreminutes,Itellmyself.
Afternot10,but15minutesgobyIcan’tignoreitanymore.Istartpacking,trying nottostartpanickingtonotmakehimanymoreworried.Ihaphazardlythrowmy diary,food,andwaterintoabagasIgoaroundourhouseforthelasttime,tryingto thinkofanythingelsewemightneed,knowingIonlyhaveminutesleft.Ilookoverthe crackingwalls,thebedthatmeandhimhavesharedsincewedecidedwewere inseparableat2yearsold.Iturnandlookatthewindowthatwasshatteredamonth ago,whenhedecideditwasagoodideatopracticehiscricketthrowingskillsinsidethe house.AsImakemywaybacktothekitchen,Itakeonelastlookatoursmallbutwell kepthome.Ilookathim,andwithoutsayingaword,heopensthedoorformeaswe bothstepoutofthehouse.
ThestreetsIonceknewhavebecomeunrecognizableflameslickatfamilarbuildings, transformingwhatwasonceavibrantneighborhoodintoonethickwithsmokeand ash.Riotsrageeverywhere,withgunshotsaddingfueltothechaoseveryminute.
Mybrothergrabsmyhandtightlyasweweavethroughthealleyways,tryingtofinda wayout.Allaroundme,Iheardesperatevoices.
“Takethechildrenandleave,Iwillbefine.It’stoodangerousforusalltogo.”aman urgeshiswife,hisvoicestrainedwithforcedcalm.
”Icannotleavewithoutyou,”shepleads.
”Gotoyoursister'splace,IwilljoinyouwhenIcan.”
Ipullmybrotheralong,tryingtonavigatethroughthepanickedcrowds.Wepassa youngboyandgirlhuddledinadoorway,confusionandterrorontheirfaces.
“Wheredowego?”Thelittlegirlwhispers.
”Bequiet,wemustwaithere.I’msuretheywillreturnsoon.”
Trudgingthroughthepeoplearoundus,Itrytotuneoutwhat’shappeningaroundme andjustfocusononethinggettingtothetrainstation.ButIcan’t.ThetownIgrew upin,thefamiliarshopsandroadsIknewlikethebackofmyhandwereallcrumbling behindme.
Thepeoplewhohadbecomemyfamily,thefriendswhohadhelpedmethroughthe toughtimes,eventhesmalldailyconversationsIhadwiththeshopkeepers were gone.Ican’thelpbutthinkofthelifeIwasrunningawayfrom,thelifethatwasso familiar,somundane,soconsistent thatwillsoonbecomejustamemory. Icanseethetrainstationnow,itisonlyacoupleminutesaway.Soclose.Iholdhishand tighteraswekeeprunning,alongwithhundredsofothers,knowingthatcatchingthe trainisouronlywayout.
Thousandspushforward,theirmostvaluablepossessionswrappedinclothandclutched totheirchests.Thetrainispackedalready,itdoesn’tlooklikethere’sroomtobreathe.A quickglanceabove,andIseepeopleclimbingandsittingontopofthetrainjustto makesuretheyhaveaspot.Ihopewe’llmakeit,Ithinktomyself.Imakemyway throughthepeoplearoundme,tellinghimtostayclose.Finally,I’mabletotakeone steponthetrainandmakemywayon.Butjustwhenwehadfinallygottentothe thresholdofsafety,thecrowdsuddenlypushesagainstme,asIfeelhisfingersslipping frommine.
Iscreamhisname,butmyvoicedisappearsintotheshoutsofthousandsofothers. Anotherpush,andourhandsbreakapart.I’msweptforward,furtherintothetrain, whilehe’scarriedbackwardsinthetideofbodies.Ilookback,screamingandcrying,as Icatchonelastglimpseofhisterrifiedfaceturningbacktowardmebeforethecrowd swallowshimwhole.Pushingagainstthecrowd,Itrytogetoffthetrainandrun towardshim,butit’spointless.Shovedontothetrain,Ilookbacktohearhimcallmy nameonefinaltime,andthen—nothing.WhileI’mstillstrugglingtogetoff,Ifeelthe trainstartingtomove.No.No.Thiscan’tbehappening.Islammyfistsagainstthe metal,screamforsomeonetostopit butthedoorsarelocked,theguardsare unmoved,andtheplatformisalreadyslippingawaybehindus.Thiscan’tbe howdid Iallowthistohappen?Ishouldn'thavegottenon.Notwithouthim.Notlikethis.I stickmyheadoutofthetrainwindowasthesmokefromthefiresstartsstingingmy wateryeyes.Startingtosob,Ifeelasifit'simpossibletocatchmybreath.Iscreamhis name,franticallysearchingthroughthenowdistantfacesinthecrowd.Butit’stoolate. ImadeittowhatIhopeissafety—butwhatkindofsafetyisthis?What'sthepointif he’snothere,standingbesideme?
Ifalltomyknees,headinmyhands,clutchingthebagthatstillholdshisthings.Around me,someweep,othersyell,andsomejustsitinsilence,mourningthelifetheyonce had.Throughmytearfilledeyes,IseeablurrypictureoftheplaceandpeopleIusedto callhome.Imadeittothetrain—butwhatuseisit,ifthepersonwhoholdshalfofmy soulisleftbehind?
70 years later, India
Iadjustmysariwithtremblinghands.Seventyyears.Seventyyearssincehindustanwas divided,SeventyyearssinceIlostmybrother.Everynight,myheadrestsonmypillow butmymindstaysawake,askingthesamequestionsoverandover.Didhesurvive?Ishe stillsearchingforme,likeIsearchforhim?
Ilookback,mydaughtergivingmeanencouragingsmile.Sheknowswhatscenesplay throughinmyhead “Whatifit'snothim?WhatifIhearthenewsIhavedreadedfor seventyyears thathedidn’tsurvive.
IlookdownatthebagI'mholding.Itcarriedmymostpreciouspossession.Worthmore tomethananypieceofjewelry,fancycar,orexpensiveclothing thediarythatI clutchedthatnight.Itspagesareslightlywrinkled,stainedwithbothbloodandtears. Insidearechildhoodphotographs,memoriesfromourlifeinPakistan,andofcourse,what Iwroteonthetrainthatnight—determinedtofindmybrotheragain.Itspageshad yellowed,butthememoriesofthatnightremainedassharpasthebrokenglassthatwas litteredonthestreet.
Ithinkbacktohowmuchittooktogetushere.Yearsofpaperwork,gettingaspecialvisa, threedaysoftravelfromLahoretoDelhi allfollowingathinthreadofhopebasedon recordswehadfoundayearago.Ican’tturnbacknow,Ithink.
Imovemyeyestotheweathereddoor,takingadeepbreath.Slowly,Iraisemywrinkled, triedhandtoknock3times.Thethirtysecondsthatfollowedfeltlikeaneternity.Each momentstretchesuntilI'mcertainwehavemadeaterriblemistake,untilI'mconvinced weareatthewronghouse.
Whenthedoorfinallyopens,ayoungermanappears,alookofconfusiononhisface.
Slowly,Itrytoexplain.“WehavecomeherefromPakistan.”Isay,myvoicetrembling.“I amlookingforsomeone…”thewordscatchinmythroat.HowdoIexplainseventyyears oflossinadoorwayconversation?Itryagain,tryingtonotletmyemotionsgetthebest ofme.“Mybrother…wegotseparatedduringthepartition.Iwasjustwonderingif…if heliveshere?”Idon’tthinkI'mmakinganysense,Ithinktomyself.Ibeginexplaininga bitfurther,“Theytoldusattherecordsofficethataboymatchingmybrother's descriptioncametoDelhiinSeptemberof1947.Iknowitsoundsimpossibleafterallthis timebut—”
Theyoungman'seyeswidenedslightly.Somethinginmyramblingexplanationmust havemadesense,Ihope.
Whenthedoorfinallyopens,ayoungermanappears,alookofconfusiononhisface. Slowly,Itrytoexplain.“WehavecomeherefromPakistan.”Isay,myvoicetrembling. “Iamlookingforsomeone…”thewordscatchinmythroat.HowdoIexplainseventy yearsoflossinadoorwayconversation?Itryagain,tryingtonotletmyemotionsgetthe bestofme.“Mybrother…wegotseparatedduringthepartition.Iwasjustwondering if…ifheliveshere?”Idon’tthinkI'mmakinganysense,Ithinktomyself.Ibegin explainingabitfurther,“Theytoldusattherecordsofficethataboymatchingmy brother'sdescriptioncametoDelhiinSeptemberof1947.Iknowitsoundsimpossible afterallthistimebut ”
Theyoungman'seyeswidenedslightly.Somethinginmyramblingexplanationmust havemadesense,Ihope.
Hesmiles,beckoningusbothtocomein,thensaying“Nana,thereissomeonehereto seeyou.”Myheartnearlystops.Couldittrulybepossible?
Heleadsustoasmallsittingroomwhereanelderlymansitsbythewindow.Helooksup atus,leaningforward.
“Nana,theyhavecomefromPakistan”theyoungmansays. “Pakistan?”
Ireachintomybag,pullingoutmydiary,filledwithphotographsofwhenwewere young.Ishowhim,startingtoexplain.Inoticehisexpressionbeginstochange.He’s staringatmenow,notthephotographinhishand.Hiseyeswidenindisbelief.Herises shakilytohisfeet,hisgrandsonrushingtosupporthim.
Heopenshisarmsandsuddenlytheyearswehavebeenapartfallaway.Iamnolonger an85yearoldwoman,butayounggirlwhohasfinallyfoundherwayhome.
“Alltheseyears,Isearchedeveryrefugeecamp,andwrotetoeveryoffice Ithought youweregone,”hesays,tryingtoholdbackhistears.
Aroundus,morepeoplegather.Hissonsandtheirwives,grandchildren,drawnbythe commotion.Theylookatuswithwonder,relativesfromacrosstheborder,thesemissing piecesoftheirfamilyhistorystandinginfrontofthem.
Intheeveninglight,surroundedbyfamilyweneverknewweshared,thebordersbegin todissolve,revealingwhatwasalwaystrue-somebondscanneverbebroken.Notby time,notbydistance,andnotevenbyhastilydrawnlinesthattoreaonceunitednation intwo.
