Nabina Das is a poet and writer born and brought up in Guwahati, Assam, and currently based in Hyderabad, Telangana. Her latest poetry collection Anima and the Narrative Limits is from Yoda Press. Her other poetry collections are Sanskarnama (Red River, 2017), Into the Migrant City (Writers Workshop, 2013), and Blue Vessel (Les Editions du Zaporogue, 2012).
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Her debut book is a novel titled Footprints in the Bajra (Cedar Books, 2010), and her short fiction volume is titled The House of Twining Roses: Stories of the Mapped and the Unmapped (LiFi Publications, 2014). Her first book of translations titled Arise out of the Lock: 50 Bangladeshi Women Poets in English (curated by Alam Khorshed, Chittagong) appeared in early 2022 from Balestier Press, UK.
A Rutgers-Camden MFA alumna, Nabina is the editor of WITNESS, The Red River Book of Poetry of Dissent (Red River, 2021), and co-editor of 40 under 40, an Anthology of Post-globalisation Poetry (Poetrywala, 2016). Nabina is a 2017 Sahapedia-UNESCO fellow, a 2012 Charles Wallace Creative Writing alumna (Stirling University, Scotland), a 2016 Commonwealth Writers features correspondent, a 2012 Sangam House, a 2011 NYS Summer Writers Institute, and a 2007 Wesleyan Writers Conference creative writing alumna.
Map Makers! The new video game in town is here. To play Map Makers the Rulers have stencils and erasers. Also permanent markers. Plus all baton- wielding forces their side. Who knows if things go really awry. The opposition team| has brushes, colours, and a few pencils to write with. Plus, they are singing loud, playing drums, dotara, flutes. Who knows if the batons strike their heads. They might fall down while singing. The video game will last as long as the two teams last. It’s not ‘half-time’ yet on the floor. But already there’s gore all around. Every time Rulers charge and seal the maps, the effing opposition sings and paints over the lines, the barriers, borders. They break through with their songs. With fractured hands, blinded eyes. Rulers want game up to 1-0. But how! Colours deluge the blood, music hits The batons back. More they’re drawn, more the maps blur. Rulers play in fury. The singers chant: New game on.
When the quotidian wrote our notes of isolation We were brought up by folks who respected the encrusted time, wound their watches every morning, opened windows to days. They swept the morning breeze…
History Cannon-foddered Histories are fodders for cows, they give-in to lot of chewing. I had a thing for the spice-route and my wife said it’s pretty kinky,…
Beside The New Mosque By success, I mean paradise. Dwellers of paradise find absolution from their daily sins on a daily basis. That is why, to me, the truly…
Dolphin We listen to the crow cawing. I and Jhunu. There are no other birds, only a crow on the branch of the berry tree. We…
Boxes He has taken three weeks off to travel in Europe. She couldn’t afford the trip. He didn’t ask her to come, either. He sends her…
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