thefishbones Literary Magazine
Issue no. 1
glimpses “Travel unleashes my soul ”
“Women don’t need equality”
Literary Magazine
The Milestone
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“Breathe with the Tree” “art seeks a lifetime”
On the cover View Near Naples 1781 by Francis Towne
Editor’s Note We are utterly delighted to have our debut issue out in your hands. This issue is very special to us, as we begin the journey with immense hope and joy.The fishbones literary magazine is born out of love for the art we seek in everyday life. We are honoured to bring a collection of different forms of art here at one place through our magazine.We accept poetry, fiction,art, photography and uncategorized articles. Along with literary we bring some leisure reads - travel stories and places to go. We are grateful to every artist who contributed for our debut issue, we owe you big for believing in us. We are thankful to the readers for choosing our magazine and you people are going to help us grow. We will make sure you choose us over and over again. Through the pages that follow we present you the diverse world of artists as they express their emotions vividly with the help of art they are best at and we hope you will like the tour.
Editor-in-chief Siddharth Ayyachamy
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Contents From the ocean by Siddharth Ayyachamy.....................................4 Clock ticking by Kamela Dehar.................................................5 Blind Love by Niveditha..............................................................6 the stillness after by Faii...................................................................7 On count to ten by Dinesh................................................................8 Ganga aarti at first light by Shaswat prakash..................................9 Pandemic by Madhuri Ravi..........................................................10 Love is meant to be love by Joe Casper.......................................12 Siberian cranes by Amrita namekumar.......................................17 around the globe ........................................................................18 broken love by Leona Fox.............................................................20 selenium forest by Harini muralidharan........................................22 fate- the traitor by Laeeqah ebrahim..................................................23 heart pours-the real talk by Anika Drysdale......................................24 dreamy evening by Amrita namekumar...........................................27 Travel Diaries..................................................................................28 4| The FishBones | Issue #1
The FishBones Kolkatta by Sudhesna Das.............................................................30 Memories by Shin Anne..................................................................31 nurture hub.....................................................................................32 morning with siberian birds by Shaswat prakash...........................34 Society and us................................................................................35 Artist’s corner................................................................................36
All the uncredited works solely belongs to the fishbones magazine team.We owe a big thanks to the artists from the pexels and unsplash websites for letting us use their photos which has helped a lot in pulling together the design of our magzine. 5| The FishBones | Issue #1
Siddharth Ayyachamy
From The Ocean
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Deep, dark and haunted Eyes rolled to find the light Among the sprawled dust grains That pierced as a canopy on sapphire cake Flapping the fins, gusting through gills I rose higher towards the silhouette of summer Spotting my Little Girls and cousins at surface Who played the nibbling on human foot Feet you bite is made of your ancestor’s flesh They Feed us at beach and Kill in kitchen Don’t be a fool to swipe off their sins There is a trap in their every act Whisking away my kinship down home I laughed, pity these humans Not a fool to drool for the meat hung hook I mused at their distant trap and caved in A bed of trap holes stuck on my face Against my squirms I was heaved slowly Wiggling my tail, I leaped and flew in air Delighted by my skill to outwit humans On the thought, an arrow slinked my belly That threw me to the white sands of shore Bloody humans, I cursed as my mouth Blew open, paralysed Now I know the rest of my dish Wear the make up of masalas Freeze in fridge, take a hot oil bath Garnish the plates with your veggie mates Coriander, tomato slices, red sauces Fuzz out the steam from your bones As they open the bowl Get naked as they rip your flesh on chunks And then rest in peace Turned down to what they call as The FishBones.
Clock ticking
I often found myself wondering where is my life going There’s this clock ticking away, not too far behind me, to remind me I am not going to be here that long to wonder how’s and why’s working of this life But to go along with the flow and to enjoy the show. Once in a while, I feel the burden of this world upon my shoulders surround me. No matter how much I push it aside, it seems to find me. But now and then I get a glimpse of joy which astounds me. Those moments are rare and few in between to be found in these challenging times. In a period where everything is unsettled, Brexit one end and Donald trump, another. Such is the news covered with bombing places killing innocent lives. It’s no wonder I am forever contemplating the why’s and how’s of this cruel world. There’s this clock ticking away, not too far behind me, to remind I am a guest on this planet to enjoy the moments I have with my family beside me. Maybe here today and gone tomorrow, I know I am ever the pessimistic soul. There are days when life gets tedious, I realize it’s not for permanent basis. Life challenges us in many ways, but keep going and never let it drag you down. For nothing is forever, circumstance constantly changes from young to old. There might be hurdles or just a smooth road ahead. One thing I could say, I have experiences which define me.
Kamela Dehar 7| The FishBones | Issue #1
Dr.Niveditha
Her love was blind, And so was his, When he was new. As years flew by, He turned blind to her love, Yet, her love was blind. Sufferings, pain and hurt, Was what she felt, When he had left her alone.
Blind Love
To Heaven’s gate she had left, The moment he walked away, Yet, her love was blind. Yes, a mother’s love was blind, As she loved him from the Heavens, A love from afar.
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by FAII 9| The FishBones | Issue #1
The stillness after
On the count of ten
One love can drive Two people crazy in a Three dimensional fantasy world where the Four seasons are iced and fused to have Five worldly elements under their lock and by the Six-th month, with the queen juno to bestow all Seven mainlands, the baby-cupid to spread Eight, the infinite flow of love across Nine celestial orbs in the sky, whereby his Ten fingers are unwilling to leave her, unconditionally!
Dinesh S.R 10| The FishBones | Issue #1
Ganga aarti at first light by Shashwat prakash
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PANDEMIC by Madhuri Ravi
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There are too many people at home We all bump into each other Uncomfortably like strangers in the subway and look away the pieces of our home we have claimed for ouselves are no longer scared there’s someone else sitting there like a hideous rock in a well mowed lawn twenty one days is a long time until today, i had no-one to talk to and it was better that way even though i spoke to myself like i’m three people in one now all my conversations are littered with stories of brahmnical glory and the importance of worship
i can’t walk out the door like i used to crammed in together we have no choice but to look our differences in the eye and fume in silence The news blares in to our ears but we know it’s nowhere near the truth the government isn’t doing enough and my father is the most scared of us all he won’t let me touch my nose when it’s itchy even though i haven’t left the apartment in five days he brews every concoctoion he can think of alcoholic tintures against COVID-19 sanitizers on every table dettol on every sink Maddening as it is to pace a small apartment till the linoleum wears down, the impending doom that hangs over the heads of those squatting their lives away In slums, Cheap settlements, Minimum wage jobs, sends chills down my spine the whole world is sick it feels like the end, the scramble to buy as much as possible and hoarding it in neat little homes Watching, if our neighbours Cough and kneel ashes,ashes We all fall down. 13| The FishBones | Issue #1
Love is meant to be Love
Joe Casper
Clutching my hair, she moaned as we rolled on our bed “I should be leaving to office early tomorrow, after all I’m doing this for you.” In the middle of our love making, how does her thoughts drift away to this? I froze for a second before taking down her lips. And you should be going to school with Edward for parent’s meeting, you remember? Is this the time to discuss that? I nestled on her neck. “This is the only time I get to spend with you but you chose to romance.” She nibbled my earlobes. Okay, get away now. I don’t need your sympathy. George, listen, are you satisfied with your life? Housekeeping, dropping Edward school, afternoon naps, sex. Don’t you have any goals in your life? You are spoiling my mood now. I turned aside pushing her down from me. I’m happy for my life. What you want me to do? No, you aren’t happy. You are just cheating yourself. You are trying to be in your comfort zone.Always, safe and secure. Yes I am , we finally yearn for comfort even if we do a million-dollar business. I’m doing what I really like to do. Oh, you like brushing your ass on bed by eating on your wife’s money? Do you even mind what our neighbours say about you? You need to earn something on your own. It’s good for you. You are what because of the neighbour’s. And I’m this because I’m still finding happiness in things I love. Bitch please, then go fuck your things of love. Fed up with your explanations. Okay, pay my salary for housekeeping for the past six years. What? She screamed. And slowly her hands caressed my chest seeking negotiation. Then what followed was salary paid in sweat and pleasure. Come on Ed, we are running late. I threw his bag through the window of the car. I thought mom would take me to school today, since we have a meeting. He shrugged sheepishly. That makes me sad, do you think I don’t fit for the meeting? Yes, you don’t. He took his seat. Why? I asked peeking through the driver’s window. People tell me you are a slacker. 14| The FishBones | Issue #1
I bumped my palms against the door biting my teeth. Is there something wrong? He looked grumpy. I…… take care of home, don’t you see that. That doesn’t count as a job. I fuck your mom daily and that is a job, I wanted to utter it badly. Take your sweet mom with you who has a bloody job. I walked back inside the garage and flew with my scooter away. Dad!!! I heard a distant whine besides the whiz of my scooter. .......................................................... Where have you been all day? I was at the beach, volunteering some gigs. That sounds great. Shall we? She said undoing her shirt buttons revealing her bosom. Are you serious? I faltered at the unusual invitation. I’m fucking serious. She said rolling her sultry tongue. As I neared her, she held my shirt collar and pulled me closer. Heck, you are one shameless creature I had ever met. She shouted at my nose. You left the home just like that. Ed walked for the bus and reached the school late. Then I got a call from Miss Lesley enquiring about our absence. I felt ashamed. And here you come nonchalantly, baked from beach breathing peace. He wanted you to come. And he was not so proud to have me for the meeting. I whispered biting down my anger. So, I left him alone to decide. He…. is a child, why don’t you stop being one? He was very clear of his need. I stared at her. Mom, I told him not to come with me. Ed spoke from his bedroom. Why would you? Because you told so, he doesn’t have the sense of direction in his life. And that’s what you tell a child. I fumed. No George, I mused it someday out of frustration and I am shocked that he remembers it still. Get inside the room, I pushed her and locked the door. I need my money. I said cornering her against the wall. George, what are you talking about? I need money! money! ……………I curled up on the floor as tears were at brink. Honey, oh my darling. Get up baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. She rubbed my back with her warm hands. She lifted my head to place on her thigh, the silk of her skirt tickled my cheeks. I felt so small in her cup of hands, I cried after many years. Darling, listen to me, you are my life. Nobody could have made me happier than you, and I respect you as a person. Her every word brought more tears as they reminded my past. 15| The FishBones | Issue #1
George, get up now. I can’t see you like this, please. I sniffled, took a deep breath and got up waving her hands off my hair. Ed shut the main door as I left hastily grabbing the car keys from the dining table. I turned back by the sound of the door, it was obvious that he didn’t like me. We were friends till he started schooling, then he started to hate me, he thinks I’m idle and worthless. You should not do that, she shouted pulling Ed away from the door and opened it. Darling, you got to stay strong. Come back to me. She wailed running down the porch as the car hit the road. What happened to you Ed? Why do you talk like that to your dad? He is a good guy. She spoke kneeling to his height. He doesn’t earn money as you do, I always got nothing to say when somebody asks me what does my dad do. You have got to tell them he is a home maker, a cook and a loving dad. She shook his shoulders dripping tears. I don’t feel like telling that when everybody talks of a scientist, a doctor, teacher and ……. his eyes rolled as his milk teeth jittered rambling for words. She hugged him feeling helpless. It was night and no shadow of George anywhere on the walls of her house. When she entered the kitchen to prepare food, she found chopped vegetables, onions, meat, every other ingredient ready and packed in the fridge. Rain seemed to be her only companion now, with the roof turning a chatterbox. She waited with a hot bowl of soup in her hands, haunted eyes and rumpled skirt. Ed was asleep. She sat at the porch staring at the trickling water from shingles. All night long it rained and George didn’t come back. Ed woke her up from the floor as it dawned. The desolated dining table desiccated with the food made last night, untouched. Come with me, she pulled him along. They left the home in their scooter. She knew where he would be, she drove to the beach. Under the umbrella, there was a whole lot of bottles filled with sand. He lay next to them under the scorching sun. George, get up. Come on, move. She shook his chest. He remained unmoved. Ed checked him with a long twig he found on the shore, prodding him on his neck. Stop that, her eyes seethed. ---coughs---I squinted rubbing my eyes, the blur I saw took my wife’s shape. She ranted lifting me up. I saw the love in her eyes, the love stoned out through separation. Ed watched us walk with desperation. We got in to the car parked crookedly that occupied three boxes. She wept nestling on my chest. Clearing off the chestnut hair from her face, I smooched her lips. She beamed back strongly. Before I closed my eyes savouring her salty tears, Ed appeared behind the door. 16| The FishBones | Issue #1
He turned and began to run. I jumped off the car immediately and ran for him. He was fast, he ran straight through the sea giving no heed to the waves. Edward, we screamed running behind him. For the first time ever, I feared the sea and then I dived in with a heavy heart. By the time she reached the boundary of waves they both had vanished from her vision. She kneeled on the wet sand crying her stomach out. The life guards arrived next minute and they picked her along in to the sea for the hunt. As the time passed, her throat was becoming sore and dry patches of tears filled her face. George, Edward she shouted breaking the noise of the waves. At that particular spot, the waves rose higher and higher, water splashed on their faces from all the sides. That’s when she saw an anchor tattooed arm pedal out of water. Holding Ed on one of his arms he has swum all the way with his other arm. There he is, she shouted. Men in blue jumped in, they rescued Ed from his hands and swam back to the boat. Ed who was unconscious looked pale and had wrinkly palm, she brushed his hands as George climbed the boat holding the rope tied on the gunwale. She threw herself to him as soon as he stepped in and she sobbed still stuck in fear. George lifted Ed from the floor and kissed the water out of his mouth. He coughed heavily before he opened his red eyes, George put him on the other guy’s hand to delude Edward that he was not saved by his dad. She kissed his cheeks with her mushy face, he looked around averting his dad’s eye. Why did you do that? She slapped him. He sat grimly without a blink. Don’t you ever think of it again. She added. George pulled her away from him. There was no need for that. They settled down. Elsa, the lady in the crew was sitting next to Edward. She asked him “what’s wrong?” He pointed his hand to George. His mom got up to smash him, George pulled her back. What’s wrong with George? You know him? Of course, how come do we not know the man of ocean, we all know him, everyone at the beach know him. Man of ocean? His wife asked skeptically. Yes, that’s how we call him. Wait, you don’t know anything? Elsa rolled her eyes in surprise. No, what you mean by anything? The guy on steer laughed. George turned to Elsa with a taut face which she ignored. Alright, that’s the biggest shock of my life. I can’t stop myself from revealing this now, it’s such a rush you know. I’m sorry George, I can’t help it. Tell us, she stared at her mouth in anxiety. George Orwell, as we call him the man of ocean, he is the Best volunteer life saver of the year, not just for this year for the past five years, so he was awarded the “Best life saver of all the times”. He is blessed from all around the world. Elsa spoke happily as she got a chance to 17| The FishBones | Issue #1
light up a family. She watched their face turn awestruck by her words. Tears swell from her eyes as she nibbled her lips in guilt. Edward didn’t know how to react and sat still leaning on her shoulder. Why didn’t you tell me? She mumbled tugging his arms. You never gave me fucking time to tell any of that. You ran behind your job and we only made love at nights. He spoke calmly.I’m sorry. Yes, I agree. It was my mistake, I’m sorry George. He rubbed her tears and kissed on her hair. Go tell sorry to dad, Elsa gave him a nudge. He curled his fingers tight on her tux. It’s okay Ed, dad always loves you. Go to him. Unsure, he retreated and his mom pulled him to their seat. He snuck his face on her stomach. Slowly, he looked at his dad to ensure he wasn’t looking at him. Tell sorry to dad, now you know who he is, he is a life saver. She pushed his head away, he stared at him dolefully thrusting his lips out. George pulled him to his chest and patted his back. I’m sorry dad, he uttered and finally drops of tears washed his face too. It’s okay Ed. Now what would you tell all? His mom asked. “My dad saves lives, not money.” She let her tears of joy flow smoothing his hair. Listen Ed, learn to love without expectations. Don’t love me because of what I do, love me just because I’m your dad. Is that clear? Yes dad, I always had loved you from my heart, but at school…… I had no escape. Everyone asked me the same question and I had no answer. I was ……exhausted. Sorry dad, I had hurt you. He bent his head down. I understand Ed. Okay okay, stop the sad stories. Let me tell you all a healing story, Elsa acted up for the occasion. There lived a man who lived in peace while we all lived to attain peace someday. He never took money for a job, he could have joined the professional life savers crew but he didn’t, he loved cooking for his small family of a wife and son, he was blessed from all around the world every time he saved strangers, yet he couldn’t make his son love him, he cried all night with the rain on the shore and now he smiles in the sun with his life doing summersault in a boat. Everyone giggled as the boat parked on the shore. Ed now ran down to the car, George walked her wife resting his hands on her waist. The next day she woke up on their bed naked at twelve in the morning and cursed about her job.
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^photography^
Siberian cranes, by Amrita Namekumar
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e b o l g he
t d n u ro
A
This Magnificent tree found amidst the Sun land farm in South Africa had seen a millennium (approx. 1060 years old) on this earth. The panoramic view gives a misconception of two trees stuck together but it’s a single trunk that consists of two sections. The trunk has developed its own hollow space with the aging of the tree giving way to an eco-friendly
THE SUNLAND BAOBAB
bar and wine stellar to be set up inside the trunk. The Baobab measures 22m high and the trunk diameter around 10.64m. The natural vents of the tree help maintain the internal temperature to 22°C. The Vent on the trunk fitted with square door opens to the stairs that take us one metre below the ground level where the special bar is setup. The railway sleeper
pub and a perfect music system are the add on that takes us closer to nature as we sip the beer sitting inside the hollow trunk.
the small pub and the music system inside the tree 20| The FishBones | Issue #1
the magnificient baobab
ETRETAT FRANCE
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The Etretat is a commune in France famous for its white sea cliffs and three natural rock arches that seeps in to the Atlantic Ocean. One of the arches resembles the trunk of an elephant (aka cliff needle) that rises 70 metre above sea level and the other takes the shape of a dragon head. The third arch is not visible from the town. Also, the cliffs are wrapped by small farming towns of Normandy region. The wind is wild at the top and small caves found at the bottom helps the waves catch some shade. Normal beach sand is replaced by a bed of porous rocks and pebbles on the shore.
Broken love
Leona Fox
“Hi.” She didn’t say it in a friendly way but he looked up as he knew that voice. He had yearned to hear that voice again. “Right back atcha.” He smiled hopefully. “I didn’t see you up there.” “If I’d realised that, I wouldn’t have said anything.” She looked away hoping he would now go away. But he felt he needed to plead his case, explain the inexplicable. “Please don’t be like that.” “Like what?” “Like that.” “I’m not being like anything.” They’d had this conversation before. Sierra frustrated him to the point of absolute distraction. He hated that she was being so difficult. Part of him couldn’t blame her but it hurt nonetheless. She was still looking up at the sky, avoiding him. The hurt he was feeling, that she had no idea he was feeling, she felt it too. “Can you come down please so we’re not having this conversation for the world to hear?” She stopped kicking her legs against the wall she was sitting on and jumped right into Rob’s arms. It was a move they’d performed a thousand times, without a second thought his arms were out to catch her, the way it had always been. As he held her in his arms, she looked into his brown eyes. Their connection was still there and it pissed her off beyond belief. “Put me down now!” He did as she demanded, immediately. She stood there defiantly staring up at him. She was 5 foot 6 and he was 6 foot 5 but under her steely gaze, he felt like a chastised little child. She turned and stormed off. “Wait!” he shouted after her, she seemed to move faster the further she got away. It was almost like she was jogging but due to his enlarged frame in comparison to hers, he hardly had to put in any effort to keep up. “Do you not get what I’m saying Rob?” “You’re not saying anything.” “I’m saying volumes without saying it. I don’t respond to your texts but you still text me. I don’t respond to your calls but you still call me. I delete your emails without opening them but you still write me. What do I actually need to say?” She had a point. He knew she didn’t want anything to do with him, however knowing that didn’t change his feelings. Even when she was screaming in his face, he felt love. She was like no other woman he had ever met. She wasn’t intimidated by his size, his tattoos, his rugged bearded exterior. He knew even if someone like him came at her aggressively she would stand her ground. 22| The FishBones | Issue #1
She was fierce, she was strong, she was a lioness. Her stubbornness which he admired was now the thing which was stopping them from getting back to where they were. “I’m sorry.” It was all he had left, he knew it wasn’t enough, not for what he did. “I’m so sorry.” She stopped walking. She was exhausted pretending to hate him because it couldn’t be further from the truth. She wanted to shout out to the universe that she still loved him and crumble in his arms because that’s the only place she wanted to be. It was nearly impossible to look him in the eyes after he had slept with her best friend. As far as she was concerned, no matter how she felt, sorry was not going to cut it. “And I miss you.” “I miss you too.” What could it hurt to admit it? It was the truth. They’d known each other for years and she’d liked him from the second she’d laid eyes on him. He wasn’t her usual type but something about his eyes, his smile, his broad shoulders, knowing that if she was ever lucky enough to be in his embrace it would be the safest place she could ever be. That first day they met, he smiled in her direction but to her it was as if she was the only person he had ever seen before. If asked now, he’d say he saw her too but it was a lie, he didn’t notice her for a long time after that. It amused her that he tried to rewrite history to make himself feel better. Then one night his eyes were opened. She’d been forced by her boss to make an effort for a work party. By make an effort, the boss had wanted her to beautify herself and in his words, “goth eyeliner and a dress from your wardrobe won’t cut it.” She was offended by his sexist attitude but she acquiesced because to be fair to the guy, she had been ignoring his requests for wearing formal attire to the annual ball for five straight years, he was getting old and she thought she would let him have his way before he died. She knew she was difficult so for once she’d be slightly less difficult. She spent an age layering on the concealer, foundation, powders, blushers until she felt about 7 pounds heavier. She sprayed her last layer and looked at the mirror. She wasn’t surprised at what she saw, she’d seen her face before, she’d seen it like this before, she just wasn’t sure how her colleagues would react. She walked down the long hallway to the Oceania Ballroom where the party was. The doorman dutifully opened the door and she descended the staircase. She felt eyes on her as her dress sparkled and caught the light which in her head looked like a flare had been set off. There was one person she wanted to see her and as she looked around, she noticed Rob noticing her. His dreamy brown eyes lit up, there was someone new to try his charms on. But she wasn’t new, he knew her but he had never actually seen her. Fast forward a few years and she wished that moment had not happened because she wouldn’t feel this hurt now if it hadn’t.
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SELENIUM FOREST
“This work is inspired from my favourite song selenium forest by Plini”
Harini Muralidharan 24| The FishBones | Issue #1
^art^
Fate -the traitor The ocean, kisses the shore, violently, lapping at its wet skin before curling into himself with devious intent to return, soft sweet eagerness hidden behind his dark depths of rage. the moon, she glares brightly at the familiar sight dwelling in hope to calm his flames, caressing his darkening solid liquid form with her unearthly grace but her nightly presence does the opposite this time.
Laeeqah Ebrahim
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the ocean erupts, eyes wide with animalistic yearning as he grows higher and higher his wet fingers, oh so close to her ivory skin. no! the ocean slipped, falling back, roaring and thrashing to get closer to her, his moon, milky droplets fall upon his cheeks as she sheds her own helplessness at their distance. “one day” she whispers to her ocean “one day” he wails and rages, “one day” he tips his head back and he howls the most sharpest she has ever heard, her skin burns as the voice leaves an imprint, a promise that he will fulfill and with every drop of him.
HEART POURS - the real talks ANIKA DRYSDALE
She stiffened at the thought of them. Nobody was going to see her cry that day - not one person. She had cried a bucket load of tears since that day. A bucket loads? Why not a swimming pool full, or even an ocean? She didn’t know how many but they had left her feeling totally dry and shrivelled up inside. Here she was, having just discovered there was no reason. Was it only 4 weeks since her world turned upside down? It felt much longer. How could things like this happen now anyway? Where was the justice in it all? Stillborn. The word had burned into her now. Something she could never escape. Why had it happened? Just why? It was an old-fashioned word - surely not something that happened today? If it still happened today, surely it was in the third world countries, or whatever they were labelled nowadays. In the developed world and in this age, she had never seen it coming. Modern science should have stopped this from happening nowadays. What had caused this to occur? She had followed all the advice given from the medical profession, not thinking her baby would die. But this was now her reality that she could not escape. Had she known something was wrong? Maybe. Were the niggles she felt and had tried to hide away from the signs, should she have gone to the doctor? As a first-time mother, she didn’t want to be the worrywart that went to the doctor over nothing. She wasn’t going to trouble them over every slight twinge of pain or cramping feelings during the pregnancy. Even when her feet were swollen she didn’t go see them, knowing other pregnant ladies had swollen feet and hands. It was normal for goodness sake! Yet here she was, instead of planning a birth and christening she had found herself burying her baby. She remembered what the doctors just said - nothing could have saved her daughter, even if she had arrived at the hospital hours before. They had all been kind and done their best to make it as easy as possible but there was no escape, no panic button she could press to be taken back and have it all go away: her daughter was dead. She had to give birth to a dead baby, no matter what. Her daughter had died in the womb - possibly hours before she went to the hospital. She had carried something dead in her body without realising. Did this really happen to 1 in 4 pregnancies in the world? She hadn’t known if she would have the strength to hold her daughter but discovered an overwhelming outpouring of love the moment her daughter was born. She couldn’t wait to hold her and was glad in a bittersweet way that she had managed to. It had been really odd because she thought all she would think was that she was holding a dead object in her arms, but no, this was her daughter. Her beloved child that was now in heaven - had never made it into this world. 26| The FishBones | Issue #1
It’s funny how the small things that seem so important after all. The generous size of the hands and feet - maybe she would have grown into them. Puppies grow into big paws. Was that what children do? Or would they have been a point of comment forever? And to not see or know the colour of her eyes. Strange that was so unsettling. Would she have had the same colour eyes as her Mum or Dad? The eye sockets were closed so no chance of seeing. And her hair! It was such small wisps that they couldn’t even cut a lock off for her to keep. And she wasn’t allowed to bath her as they needed as much as they could possibly get for the post mortem. Things that would remain the same forever. Questions that would never have answers. Surely the modern medical profession should be able to provide a reason if not an answer? But they hadn’t. A different ending to a life that had only ever known the safety of her mother’s womb. What was it? A life cut short maybe. So short it had known nothing of the outside world. No, that wasn’t quite true. The baby used to wiggle if she splashed warm water onto her while they were in the bath. And definitely liked music. If she was getting agitated in the womb you could play any music to her except Brahms Lullaby and she would then lie completely still. Strange she hadn’t liked the one piece of music that was generally on children’s calming toys. Maybe she was just different. Now it would never be known. You shouldn’t have to bury a baby rather than surviving a life without them. But what to do now with this aching void within? What was she going to do now? She had been planning for a baby and now there was nothing. Her life was going to be empty and meaningless. The memories weren’t enough to fill that gap. Nothing would be - not even another baby. It was this child, this daughter she wanted. Not another one or even a different one. Why did people not get that? She knew the memory would last forever - what it felt to hold her daughter in her arms. Other people had years of a child with them - at least 16. She hadn’t even had a full year. No way she could make memories with her baby. Well, she had some at least from the time she was pregnant to when she had her daughter at the hospital. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted what it seemed like everybody else had. No matter what anybody said this was her daughter, her first baby. Yes, that baby was now in a graveyard but would always be a baby. She would never grow up, never experience life. This just was not fair! Why had it happened to them? Couldn’t it have been someone else? Anyone else? What about those who didn’t look after themselves in pregnancy, that drank and smoked? The consultant had said that it can happen to anyone at any time. What if it happened again? Would she cope? There was no guarantee that she would keep another. But there was no guarantee she would lose another either. How did people go on after this had happened to them? Life would never be the same again. Continuing life didn’t seem possible. All she wanted to do was hide away from the outside world. But she would have to face it again in the end. How did you do that? How could you look at other women happy with their babies while yours was in a graveyard? What was she 27| The FishBones | Issue #1
going to do when her friend had her first baby? Would she cope? Maybe if they came to her house with the baby first - but that was where she would have had her child. Was that the right thing to do? She couldn’t even look at families right now in the outside world. Her friend had gone shopping for her to get the things she needed. She couldn’t face life in the outside world right now. Why did nobody tell you this? The size of the coffin for her baby was so small. In fact, the funeral director had put it between her and her husband on the way to the graveyard.
“As she stood there, she vowed to herself that she would make this baby proud. Somehow, someway, she was going to do something with her life that made a difference to others. She didn’t know what it was or how she would go about finding it, she would find it eventually. She thought of her daughter as she made that promise, knowing it was a contract she could never break.”
Maybe she would help someone in some way. Her baby had gone but she had to live on and do something with her life. Now that her child was in heaven, her life (short though it was) needed to have meaning and as the mother, she was the only one that could provide it. What meaning she could give to that small life she literally had no idea but someone out there would. She knew she would find them eventually and make a reason for it. This was the promise she was making that day and knew she would never forget her baby girl who had brightened her life for only a few short months. The memories would stay with her forever and that was exactly how it was meant to be. Nothing would change them.
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Dreamy evening, by Amrita Namekumar
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Travel Diaries Located in Indore, Patalpani is one of the most dangerous water falls in India which often explodes with flood during monsoon. The massive terrains stretch up to 150 feet underneath your shoes with gushing water. In summer, the waterfall dries completely looking like a huge crooked well. But lose not your hope, the dead end of water falls always got a shallow lake that lets you swim in the naturally preserved water.The Boulders that bring water bask in the sun shining smoothly until their sliding blanket closes upon them in monsoon.
safely, its heaven. The picture traps us with the sweet hum of nature. It feels like stuck up in an empire of Mystic mountains and green water. The sea blue sky above seems to be farther than normal. The trek downhill keeps your every nerve at stake but once you stand down the seething waterfall hugged by
The Adventurous part is here, there is no fixed path to reach the downhill where you could take a natural shower. One must climb down the terrain sneaking through bushes and shrubs with a good gripped foot or else the loose sands and stones might give you a jet ride to death. Despite all, once you reach down 30| The FishBones | Issue #1
the beauty of natural vistas, you will be proud of your every single risky step. The best time to visit is from June to august when the rainfall is moderate and the chance of your death by flood is fairly low. Our team was very
PATALPANI WATERFALLS lucky to have witnessed the dry dead climate of Indore when there was no trace of green or either water fall. It became clearer when the shop keeper looked at us like “What are you doing here in the first week of summer?” We couldn’t help but laugh at the empty boulders. But as said above
there is always something to do here, we found the lake and swam with all our hearts. To the west a railway tunnel facing the Patalpani is another warm place to go on a walk with your friends after the swim. If you were lucky, you would be surprised with the train on the same track
you walk and you have to do the Spidey pose on the wall till the train crosses you. The whole of the tunnel ricochets in the dark when the train passes through and finally light enters the tunnel once again. Before you visit make sure your stars are working or else you would find the shopkeeper staring at you weirdly.
The Roasted terrains in the peak of summer when our team was blessed to visit and starve without water. 31| The FishBones | Issue #1
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Kolkatta, by Sudhesna Das
I’m not childish, just a small girl trapped in this aura My heart is innocent, young and pure Let me stay like this, i don’t need a cure I still want to play under the sun, Play with the rain,hop and run A small girl who will choose to stare at a fruit in a tree, than climb to get it because i’m scared since three My teddy bear, why are you quiet? You too, don’t like to talk to me? We are here in our room again inisde this empty water tank, Better to stay here than get another spank I’m scared teddy, Please hug me Dad is outside,shouting again so angry My knees are shaking but i’m not hungry Help me find a way, come on hurry, he is hurting mommy.
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Memories Shin Anne
As
I begin this letter, I am already wondering who you are and what I could learn from you. Isn’t that strange? I am meant to be telling you what I have learned about life but I am interested in what you have learned, what you know. I don’t even know where to start. I suppose that is the danger in trying to tell someone the things that you have learned, you suddenly realise that trying to distill these things into sensible, consumable pieces of information that could possibly assist someone else makes them all seem trivial. As though your whole life is small and the lessons even smaller. I suppose it might help you to know, Stranger, that I am a person who is incredibly over confident, when I am confident, and cripplingly under-confident, when I am not feeling confident. It makes me hard for others to understand, maybe you will find this as I go on. The first thing that I have learned is that everything is usually okay. Really. Even when things seem terrible and like they cannot or will not get better, they probably will end soon. Everything is temporary and people are better than you think. Most people would help you if they knew that you needed help. I have met so many people who have helped me, not because I could or would give them anything but because they could, so they did. The second thing, that I am just now realising I have learned, is that people have to know you need help in order to help you. When you’re open with people and face the things you’re struggling with front on and with openness, people understand what you might need from them. It can be scary to expose yourself in that way, but it’s usually worth it. There are way more good people than bad people around. The funny thing is that I learned to first two things when I was so far from home. I moved to another country and proceeded to be more like the person I want to be than I ever have. I think because I didn’t feel restricted by the expectations of people who have always known me. It gave me so much freedom to be someone else, or at least a different version of the same person. So, I would say that is something I have learned; it’s hard 34| The FishBones | Issue #1
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nurture hub
to be you while trying to also be the you that other people think that you are. You become an in between person, someone who is neither themselves, nor not themselves. It is kinda like the saying in Strictly Ballroom “A life lived in fear, is a life half lived”. Only, not living in fear is also terrifying. But not in the same way, it’s terrifying but exciting. The stakes are higher but the rewards are better. I will say I cried a lot more though. There is less crying when you live in fear. Money can only get you so far. That is worth remembering. I have been in positions where I have had a lot of money and in situations where I’ve had my last £5 in my pocket. I was uncomfortable in both positions. But I have found that the less money you have, the easier is it to have even less than that. When you have money, it is very hard to want to give any of that money up if it is not serving you. When I have had barely any money, I have been happy to share it, to use the little I had to give something to someone else. I used to regularly buy food for homeless people, give money to charities on the street, buy copies of The Big Issue. I don’t do those things anymore. It makes me sad that I am less generous when I have more, but I almost feel like my position is more precarious now. If anything goes wrong I’m really fucked. I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent, run my car, pay my insurances. The loss of money affects so many other things when you’re
well off. I suppose that is why research shows that people will always live to the limits of their means and if they begin to earn more money, they will find a way............. to continue reading please visit
lessonsforastranger.com/one Amanda, the founder of “Lessons for a stranger” collects life lessons from contributors and publishes them on her website. She believes this will serve as an opportunity for people to share their wisdom and, hopefully, benefit others. She dreams of building a community willing to give and receive these lessons joyously and generously. To foster caring and a desire to help each other.
morning with siberian birds, by Shaswat prakash
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Society and us Is there a need for Women’s Rights? In today’s techno driven world, is it really necessary that we have to raise our voice for women’s rights? From the past few decades, what can be witnessed is that women have gradually grown out of the typical stereotypic life dictated by the masculine voice in any kinship. In the earlier days of struggle for women’s rights, it sounded pretty sensible. But as the greatest evolution of western culture hit the shores of India, everything has folded down on its own way giving way to a more self-dependant life style. Be it men or women, everyone has their own life style entirely dependent on themselves. In spite of this growth still women are pricked then and now, a shame to mother India where women are considered as goddess. What happens if we keep on raising our voice? The actual intention of the fight is fading away as the fight goes on infinitely sweeping the decades. Students, NGOs and public are playing their part safe inside their hut trying to find a voice of their leader first rather than addressing the problem itself. So even after fighting for a century, why hasn’t the flag yet been put down? Why haven’t we found the solution still? May be we are fighting in the wrong way, may be the very problem is not equality, may be the very cause of the problem is not men themselves. Why do we even fight for equality? First of all, let us be clear about the genders. We have male, 37| The FishBones | Issue #1
female and transgenders in our society. Who are you to raise your voice for equality to women? Men, women huh? Stop doing any favours first. In the name of equality fight, we are actually building a huge bridge creating the difference of sex what actually is the problem of concern. These voices for equality is now creating awareness of course but at the same time even the least educated people are being taught that there exists a difference between male and female and these are the ways of nagging the opposite sex that lets them proceed bravely exploring the evil. Stop fighting for equality, be quiet, mind your business. We all are created equally then why are
we shouting that women need rights which is already theirs by default. Don’t create difference with the placard of fight for equality which is irrational. Conclusion Being women doesn’t mean anything different from men and what should be learnt is that fight for equality is not necessarily important at all the times. Let it float there untouched, all we need to do is show and not shout. Show to the world that there is no difference in sex here and not comparative statements of “women can also do whatever men can do” because no one here is dominant, we all are humans by nature.
Artist’s Corner HARINI MURALIDHARAN The young artist shared her motive behind the creative process and the things that inspire her, “My art takes inspirtion from a variety of subjects but majorly music, literature and my personal experiences.I use this creative process as a way of procesing my thoughts and emotions to an extent that to me, art is almost therapeutic. However, the biggest motivation or perhaps a challenge that drives me to continue down the path of an artist is to be able to break the barriers between the mind of the creator and the receiver of the art, to be able to become one mind with the audience.”
“A great artist is but a conduit for an expression that resonates with something that is greater than him or herself. That is my constant inspiration and what I strive to achieve as an artist.”
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MADHURI RAVI Madhuri’s poetry knocks some real sense in the reader’s mind and leaves them pondering. Her works are intense and heartbreaking.She shared some honest words with us, “At the moment, everything I write is entirely based on my own life and experiences. Sometimes my emotions feel so intense, that I feel like they are in a locked box rattling in my chest.It is at these times that I write, and I usually put up my work unedited to keep it as authentic as I felt in that moment. It creates work that is less than perfect, but is undeniably raw. Once I have it written down, I feel much more at ease, like I have thought through the whole thing.I have found that people find comfort in some of the things I write because at the end of the day, we all live the same life, just in varying degrees.”
the team Shineth Atrero
Assistant editor
Joe casper
Design and styling
if there was something that could make us happy at the end of the day,it is art. art as not just in paintings but as in books,songs,sculptures and every creation that sets our heart in flight. art is the freedom to feed your soul fearlessly. something that can only be felt, something ethereal. art is sometimes compelling, sometimes confusing, sometimes retreating and sometimes purely freefalling; blooming at ease. but at all those times , never failing to lift us up to the best of our moods.
‘till death, we do art.
