Editorial – Nov-Dec 2017

Ho Ho Ho Dear Readers!

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and a very very Happy New Year from The Bombay Review!
I sit here writing this editorial on the afternoon of 25th, Home Alone running in the background so this one will be short for now. The team apologizes for not releasing an issue last month, we were, to put it mildly, under the weather. We are now back, and with a new team.

We will be releasing quite a few special issues in the coming year, apart from initiating newer projects in countries all over the world.  Sit back and read this issue this holiday season.

Our poetry editor says this in this special,

December, a month to take stock, resting those burning Achilles’ heels on the sack. Reclining, and it is this curvature of spine that allows for deliberation, musing of the years gone by.

We take a plunge with prose poetry more this time, because of the dare-devilry of saturnalia that allows itself to percolate. With Ajay Jhawar’s One-part poetry dialog-in-a-monologue you will see a foxtrot of rhetoric, with surprising twists at the end. John Koshy’s story of a biblical wind that sweeps prophetic change in its wake, amplifying Hosannas in Christmas churches. Anirban Dam’s poems The space between silence, and Two tablespoons analogy and a pinch of salt operates between architectural structures of temple and home, gathering inanities until it balloon-blasts into philosophy. Beaton Galafa’s In the slums, is a rare setting of an insect-eye, watching life whirl at grit-level, in miniscule, microscopic points-of-view that meets Kevin Casey’s Big Bang theory in Billiards re-categorizing, re-visualizing abstract thesis. And Ricardo Pau-Llosa’s poem Calderón de la Barcas is a nebulous manifesto.

V B Sree Harsha’s The time never returns…, is a stream-of-consciousness chronicle of history of nation/nations at war and peace, peace and industry, and memory.

And Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla’s Hiraeth arrests some of the most alluring lines, I have come across recently in a small space, leading to the amorousness of reminiscence. A well-craft jewel.

Happy Reading!

Best,
Team TBR

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