“If you stay long enough in a city, it reverberates inside you as both a celebration and a mourning.” MetaphorMourningProseCelebrationMumbaiCreative NonfictionContrasts Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“The city where I was first acquainted with divinity—where the refract of sky between its open-mouthed invitation had been slowly turning into a paradox of ecological dwindle.” SpiritualityDivineParentsEcologyMumbaiCreative NonfictionThe AnthropoceneClimate CollapseLocal Travel Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“When I was a young girl, my parents often visited a temple from where the Arabian Sea was visible. I accompanied them only to look forward to the few moments where sea mist and a widening orb of space juxtaposed.” SpiritualDivinityCityMumbaiTempleCreative NonfictionCartographyArabian Sea Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“Being born in Mumbai, I inherited the syntax of its distinct vocabulary. The undulant range of people as vibrant as the thrum of the Arabian Sea, smells of mogra, gulab, and champa from Dadar market, and songs of fisherman as Marine Drive gleams with the first light of dawning.” CityMumbaiCreative NonfictionTopographyArabian SeaMarine DriveDadar Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“When memory is a veil of exposure through which the fullness of tides is visible, I can still sometimes smell the radiance of flowers. I argued with friends that Mumbai does have seasons—if one bothers to watch closely. Now I trace the months on a calendar like a distant call, the sound of a train whistle or fog that engulfs before the onset of rain to participate in a collective mourning.” RainSeasonsIndiaTrainFogCityMumbaiMetropolitanCreative Nonfiction Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“When memory is a veil of exposure through which the fullness of tides is visible, I can still sometimes smell the radiance of flowers. I have argued with friends that Mumbai does have seasons—if one bothers to watch closely. Now I trace the months on a calendar like a distant call, the sound of a train whistle or fog that engulfs before the onset of rain to participate in a collective mourning.” SeasonsFogCityMumbaiMetropolitanCreative Nonfiction Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
“another nameless dusk passing over the Arabian Sea last rowboats dimly visible at the sealine hem you, reading from a holy book syllables as crisp as the oncoming rain.” BookHolyRainSyllablesMumbaiArabian SeaIn Another LanguageRowboats Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta