From the Editor’s Desk

The September skies are often the colour of an over-ripe corn, frightening storms and out of season windfall, more deaths and horror. One is torn between the beauty of the skies and the truth of devastation, of a globe melting itself out. By the time I finish reading all the poems, the sky is a ploughed field, the air still and smelling of rain. The entire world seems blue and still asleep. I ponder on the poems that make up our present collection, before the skies turn amber, explode in my head and run down my words.

Sometimes, I await the arrival of the newspaper with impending doom. It is as if we move from one tragedy to another every day without hope. And yet this bringing together of poets and their words feels both ancient and full of life. Each poem seems crystalised out of a moment of purity here, and yet just as flawed, mysterious and full of incomplete haunting beauty. An ideal book sits on the shoulder of the many books one has read, and an ideal poetry collection happens as a result of the fruit of many pages of literature in introspection. Each of these poems realise a certain aspect, colour, and a certain emotion that writes itself on these pages. What you take back from here is the feeling of having found your particular whole.

To September we return in poetry, and to that instinct that never fails us- these pages of pure fragility.

Our exclusive poetry edition is here dear readers. Expect to be dazzled. Enjoy reading.

Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
Managing Editor, The Bangalore Review