K.P.Poornachandra Tejaswi (A translation. I have only posted five chapters from the novel, here. You can read the rest, hopefully, when I find a publisher!) Chapter 1 You may be surprised why anyone ventured to name an intersection of roads, jettisoned in the vast expanse of forests, as Jugari Cross. You may also wonder why …
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Gum Trees are My Friends
My words have wings and a mind of their own. They sing when the skies are blue and when the breeze filters through the eucalyptus leaves. Unfortunately, they turned their back on me when I returned home to Cambridge. That explains a long silence in this space – I was reckoning means to deal with …
The Road Vanishes
I have now seen this land and its creatures ridden down by the three horsemen of the apocalypse. I am not very inclined to wait for the fourth. But I am curious to know what would that be – what’s left really? Fire, smoke, hail, and biblical plague? Locusts? Zeus’ swords? It’s a pity that …
Between the Heaven and the Earth, We Live in the Clouds – Fieldnotes, Week 7
I have stayed away from writing for a while. Since the country had slumped into an extended or even a permanent, state of mourning, I could barely get myself to think or write anything. Not to mention, it is very debilitating to wake into a dull orange glow of smoke covered city, where one must …
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Field Notes: Week 3
Shall I tell you some more about the state of my work? Why do it now when you will, no doubt, read my thesis! Haha, of course not. You won’t read my thesis. So, I will tell you about the National Gallery in Canberra. The gallery is lined up alongside everything that is of consequence …
Field Notes: Week 2
Have you ever heard an Australian Raven? If you haven’t, good on you. It is precisely the cries of someone in his death throes. I feel startled every time I hear it even after knowing exactly what to expect from that species. Right now, a couple of noisy miners are haranguing the Ravens and I …
The Ungovernable
The wide autumn sky is clear although it leaves an impression of a dull-lit chamber. Rather very empty for an English sky. The darkness seems to be its underbelly, raising from the ground beneath but not making itself too apparent as it envelops everything around, including the escarpment I am standing on. It is hard …
Hunting for Words
Writing about writing, in other words, some eccentric forms of meta-writing is an odd thing. The oddity takes various forms as the nature of what you must write on changes. These obscure assertions will not make great sense unless I confess that I have been forced to think about writing, more specifically translating, recently when …
Gun Island and Turning the Guns on Climate-Writing
It felt great to gaze at the treetops in the sweltering heat. This very cold land is unaccustomed to moments of tropical weather, such as the one we are having these days. Mornings, this summer, looked like afternoons. By the time it was actually “afternoon”, people were effectively knocked out by the heat and the …
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Creatures of Resistance
Dusk in Sydney is a strange time. The Antipode is very strange for that matter, but I am not going to delve on the geographies of strangeness. For someone who is been on the continent for the first time, it appears difficult to follow the hours. I thought I was paying attention to the time …
Defiant Ecologies 