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Category: Fiction

Anil Menon: Shit Flower

In its underground cavern, cathedral-like with its glittering spears of light and rust-stained barrel vaults, Goose continued to do what it had done for over…

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Amal Singh: Rudali

They have come to weep for those who can’t. Ramsingh Chaudhury’s haveli smells of cinnamon and incense, charred wood and pine oil, age and death.…

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Priya Sharma: Egg 

I consider my egg; its speckled pattern, its curves, strange weighting and remarkable calcium formation that’s both delicate and robust. It hurts but I’m determined.…

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Ng Yi-Sheng: No Other City

Listen: next Monday at 4.30pm, Singapore will disappear. The entire island, its earth and earthworks, its rivers and reservoirs, its megamalls and museums, will vanish,…

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Isha Karki: Rooting 

Branches jut towards us, splinters scrape our skin and sap leaks from bark split open, coating the curves of our shoulders, pooling in the dips…

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