Issue 5, May 2026
Contra Emily Dickinson, for us April has relieved some of the cruelty of March. Recall how annoyed she is with April in Dear March—Come in—:
Who knocks? That April—
Lock the Door—
I will not be pursued—
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied—
Before ending with:
That blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame—
March madness brought us immense tragedy but made us think of the loss of our humanity. April showers brought temporary relief and with it the insensitive return to the trifles of our lives.
What a spectacle this has been. Were it not for the very real pain inflicted on innocent beings, one would die laughing. Mad King George was, well, mad, because he was unwell; Nero and Caligula were cruel but certainly not stupid. This strutting and fretting on the stage, a tale told by an idiot [in ALL CAPS], full of sound and fury, signifying nothing—has never been witnessed before at this level of power. (So much for democracy, but that’s another matter.) Hats off to Shakespeare for anticipating the phenomenon almost a half century ago.
We crave the catharsis of laughter because we have seen much worse at home without being allowed as much as a smile. Smile, and you are in the slammer on multiple counts along with a back-breaking fine in millions. The only consolation is that almost no one beyond the confederacy of dunces is hurt by or cares about the perpetual clowning, own goals, befitting responses, and Pyrrhic victories.
In any case, April has restored our submission pipeline and we have a varied menu on offer. Brian Bassanio Paul shares a poignant essay on love and loss; Sayed Amjad Hussain offers light relief recalling his struggles with the English language; Furqan Ali engages Changez Jan in a conversation about history; and Komal Raja undertakes a quirky journey across the world of books.
Let’s see what May has in store for us.
PS: Anjum Altaf came across a couplet from 1979. He believes it is his but has no recollection why it was written and what at the time might have led to its genesis:
لِکھنے کو کُچھ رودادِ چمن ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
ایّام جنگ میں نبضِ اَمن ڈھونڈ رہا ہوں
Likhney ko kuch ruudaad-e chaman DhuunD raha huuN
Aiyaam-e jang meiN nabz-e aman DhuunD raha huuN
I search the garden for a story to write
In time of war I seek the seed of peace
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