Chief Editor’s Note
In the Sallatha Sutta, the Buddha discusses the person who is struck twice by the same arrow. In the first strike, the arrow is released by forces outside the person’s control. The second time, however, the dukka is inflicted by the person’s unconsidered response. Mindfulness or present-moment-awareness is, of course, one way to gain equanimity, but it’s not the only way, is it? I mean, what do we do as writers and lovers of literature? We weave a web of words, suspend our experience in its amber grasp, turn ourselves into fossils, step out of time. Just for a bit, just for a few weeks, just for some years, but when we are done, we are in a sense, free. Freer.
The ancient Greeks held that the purpose of debate was to achieve ataraxia– peace of mind, tranquility. Why not of literature? Isn’t Art the second arrow stayed, held frozen in its path, as we remake what happened into what else had happened, what didn’t happen, what will happen, what might never could would have happened? What do we call a discipline which invents minds to contemplate experience?
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I’m moved to these thoughts because it’s August 15th, and as I write these words, the nation celebrates its independence day. Our cover for Issue 61 reflects the self-confidence and optimism which led to independence, and that too by measures which refused, until at the very end at least, to inflict self-injury upon injury. It is true that in the grand scheme of world events, of great finance and great politics and great science, a literary magazine is a nothing. It can seem like much effort for nothing. And yet, it is precisely these little, allegedly-unread nothings which relentlessly embody the truth that the considered experience is also a freeing experience. Every issue of a literary magazine announces independence day. And that is no small thing.
The question then is who is going to do this consideration. You are! Our authors have lived their bit of the tale, now it is your task to plot the arrow’s course. There are about forty contributions in Issue 61. We have, as always, poems, stories, translations, graphic fictions, and visual narratives. But this time, we have also started a new “vertical”: essays. We recruited them by two methods: the first set was via an open call and the second was via invitation. The curated set— which we call “Explorations”— had a slightly different goal in mind: the aim is to explore the protean possibilities ever-present in narrative; in short, challenge the reader. If you liked them all on the first read, we would be pleased, naturally, but also a little disappointed. Read, feel, burn, consider, write, and then come set others free.
Welcome to Issue 61 of The Bombay Literary Magazine.
Fiction
Translated Fiction
Graphic Fiction
Essays
Visual Narratives
Poetry
Translated Poetry
Explorations
Curator: Felipe Franco Munhoz
ISSUE 61 | FICTION
ISSUE 61 | Visual Narrative
ISSUE 61 | POETRY
ISSUE 61 | TRANSLATED FICTION
ISSUE 61 | TRANSLATED POETRY
ISSUE 61 | GRAPHIC FICTION
ISSUE 61 | EXPLORATIONS
CURATOR: FELIPE FRANCO MUNHOZ
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