An unsent letter written by Maxim Gorky to the writer Vladimir Korolenko in November 1910, on the occasion of Tolstoy’s death. I had only just posted a letter to you when telegrams arrived: “Tolstoy has left home.” Here I am writing to you again, continuing our conversation in my mind. What I have to say about this news may seem confused to you. Harsh, too. You may even think I am speaking out of irritation. Forgive me. Someone…
Ripening Desire This blazing desire is a volcano’s wakeful sleep. To draw close and know beauty, the ego’s roaring surge, the pounding of waves. As the full sun stands blazing, a thirst even water cannot quench. Life gathering to bring forth life: desire intent. The cow’s natural hunger, yearning for milk to well. The rock’s softening, stirring to know its lord. The transcendent egg laid in the nest where attachment conceives. An attraction that sets two lives in motion. Sensing nearby the wing-music of ripening youth, beauty itself unfolds as a flower, and honeyed nectar wells in splendour. 0 Can anyone prescribe a measure for the blaze that dances, entranced by the light of life? Can a ray of light help prise out the thorn lodged in the foot…
S. L. Bhyrappa (20 August 1931 – 24 September 2025), one of the foremost novelists in modern Kannada literature, was a writer with a wide readership across Indian languages. His novels continually explored philosophy, history, religion, family relationships, caste, and the complexities…
Artificial intelligence can remember more information than humans, calculate faster, and make complex decisions. What happens if it begins to manage the systems that drive human civilization—economics, law, politics—more efficiently than we can? What will become of democracy? How can we make…
Chapter 20 As the car approached the gate, the man came running, as though he had been waiting for it. The guard who had opened the gate hurriedly caught hold of him and pulled him back. “How many times have I told…
Lately, whether you step into a modern café or scroll through social media, you can see people travelling back into memory in remarkable ways. Young women and men who were toddlers at the turn of the millennium now wear cargo pants slung…
We present here for our readers the appendix to Tharkanam – Zen Manam by V. Amalan Stanley, forthcoming from Tamilini. Drawn from Ajahn Amaro’s Sirupadagu – Maamalai: Iyalgira Mahamuzhumai Kuritha Theravada Sinthanaigal, which explains the shared outlook of Buddhism’s three schools—Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana (Tibet)—this appendix is offered in condensed form to aid readers’ understanding of Tharkanam – Zen Manam. ‘Often…
Christmas festivities had been arranged for the inmates at a prison complex in Arizona, in the United States. Roxy, an Eelam Tamil prisoner involved in drug trafficking, had been brought to the prison that very day. At the officers’ command, he joined the queue for Christmas dinner. As he approached the table where various dishes were being served, the man ahead of him picked up a paper plate and handed it to him. Taking his fried rice with curry poured over it, Roxy followed the man. Other…
In the town of Lashnik, near Lublin, lived a married couple, Chaim Noson and Teibele. They had no surviving children, though not because of barrenness: Teibele had borne her husband a son and two daughters, but all three had been lost—one to whooping cough, one to a malignant fever, and one to diphtheria. After that, Teibele’s womb closed its eyes; prayers, charms, and herbal brews were all of no avail, and grief drove Chaim Noson away from worldly life.…
1 Two things have played a major role in the development of human culture. The first is agriculture. The second is the rise of the age of machines and factories, made possible by subterranean oil. Social anthropological thinkers say that these two inescapable developments have also left humanity permanently mired in predicaments from which there is no return. Agriculture came into practice as long as 6,000 years ago. From the day it began, according to the rules of surplus valuation…
The close of a dark, soundless day of the year; clouds crept along the edge of heaven. After riding all day through a town with little life or beauty, I found this house of Usher only at dusk. I cannot say exactly what it was like, but at the very first sight it filled my soul with sorrow—the house, the land around it, the chill…
Vast Form. All birds are the sky’s ornaments. All rocks are great breasts swollen in the hour of pleasure. All herons are white compassion spreading the heavens upon the earth. All light is love’s semen. All darkness is Shakti’s sleep. All revelation is pure glad tidings. What lies hidden is learning beyond time. Grey hair and wrinkles are fallen leaves that know no awakening. All sorrow is rain’s hand washing the leaves. All joy is the true face of the sublime state. The expressions that arise are the workings of the heart. All music is this moment’s surging wave. All silence is fulfilment’s waxing moon. The cosmos is a living multitude of crescent moments.…