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Resistance (an experimental narrative)

About Sneha Subramanian Kanta

Sneha Subramanian Kanta believes that dissent comes in many forms. Her work has appeared or is to appear in Ann Arbor Review, Front Porch Review, Sahitya Akademi, and elsewhere. A recipient of the prestigious GREAT scholarship, she is pursuing her second postgraduate degree in the United Kingdom. Write to her at s.sneha01@yahoo.in

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As she walked out of Hepworth House, gusts of cold winds played with her scarf. Bare silhouettes of trees shuddered in the frost. The sky, a darker tinge of gray, cast a multitude of shadows.

what queer tongue is mine
unsought in this place –
of omnipresent shadows?

As she settled into the fragment of early evening, the clouds seemed to be a monochrome. It was a usual day. Seagulls cried as they flew short distances. The roof was lined with a family of pigeons. Fresh patches of green grasses forked at pointed ends and little flowers had erupted. The bareness of a vast expanse stays in mind as the shrill of a winter day. There are no segregations in the lineage of harmony.

not asked to own
a language,
a city –
only a mosaic of
broken sunbeams.

There was something about the interiority of the act of wiping; the winds knew how to erase moments as they crept past. The county, rife with remnants of war and broken edges of civilization had settled into a comfortable state of the unconscious. Everyone moved like the living dead. No eyes met for brief encounters. Rather, every grain of communication was of exchange, the give and take.

solemn strangers –
mourning tired irises
under a sleet of gray.

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