I Am a Dedicated Troll
The poem is about Modi's digital army, which can kill anybody's honour and dignity online within seconds. It is based on Swati Chaturvedi's book 'I am a Troll'.
Freevoice
I write because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, said George Orwell. As a writer, I never kowtow to the whims and dictates of the sacred godmen or godwomen, the political bigots and hypocrites, dealers of laymen, the dishonest and self-serving intellectuals, traders of religions, the betrayers of ‘other’ Indians who eke out a living by their sweat, who are living in fear for being lynched for this and that.
Lynching of Muslims in India
This article is on the rising incidents of mob lynchings against Indian Muslims. Lynching is a 'horrendous crime', said the Supreme Court.
Ahmed Sofa: The Voice of the Deprived
Sofa wrote what he believed in. He disliked pretension, and his writing was devoid of exaggeration. His writings strongly voice the concerns of underprivileged people in our country. The writing was his passion. He led a very simple and ordinary life with little place for comfort and luxury.
Harsh Mander: An Icon of Courage and Hope
He was among the first people outside the state to visit and see the gravity of the situation and how the ethnic cleansing was carried out. He frequently visited Ahmadabad in March in connection with his assignment with ActionAid India, an NGO.
Future of Dalits in India
Bhagwan Das wrote this article in 2001, he had identified the shortcomings and weaknesses of Dalits and predicted a bleak future for Dalits, but it is proving to be utterly correct today.
Khedi
It attests the trajectory of a nameless old maid, Khedi. Her masters love her for her work. They are happy to erase her real name.
On the Fallen Leaves
It is about a daily evening picture of our town's Barrack Square. This way, the sun mellows, the day wanes, and evening appears.
Call Me Abu Siddik
It is an assertion of my identity, of my birth and upbringing, of my family and culture, of my dream and desire.
Prelude to a Riot
Set in an unnamed southern town amid lush plantations of pepper, bananas, coffee, rice, and narrated in soliloquy Annie Zaidi’s 184- page novel, Prelude to a Riot is a brilliant, bold, honest, critical commentary on contemporary India.
A Sabjiwali
Masi called me, and asked for coming another day to hear the story of her son, aged sixteen only. The boy asked Rs. 30 from her, and she refused, and the boy killed himself by consuming a bottle of pesticides, which she kept hidden in a corner of the room wrapped with paper. And today was the twentieth day of her boy’s death!