Photo Essay by Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee

Made one of my favourite mutton dishes after returning from Ahmedabad: Achari gosht.


I am still stuck to the desktop so I prefer writing at my desk at home, which looks out into a few trees and a bit of sky. The light coming in through the window does help. But I am never aware of it, or not aware that I am. I love writing in the morning with a cup of Earl Grey tea, when my thoughts are still fresh. I write in the afternoon only if I am not sleepy after lunch. If I don’t find an excuse (am desperately looking for) to move out in the evening, I write till the time I must make dinner. I mostly avoid writing after dinner (unless I feel I might lose an incoming thought) as I want to prepare my mind to relax before sleeping. I am not the same person I know, when I write. I don’t belong to myself when I write. Writing is a seizure. I can feel as I write, I am also being written. Words write me.


My first wooden bookshelf from Amar Colony.


This corner is where I most find myself. I am always half missing in other places.

Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee

Manash Firaq Bhattacharjee is a poet, writer, and political science scholar from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He is the author of Nehru and the Spirit of India (Penguin Viking, 2022), The Town Slowly Empties: On Life and Culture during Lockdown (Headpress, Copper Coin, 2021), Looking for the Nation: Towards Another Idea of India (Speaking Tiger, 2018), and Ghalib’s Tomb and Other Poems (London Magazine Editions, 2013). He has taught lyric poetry and literary journalism at Ambedkar University, New Delhi.