You are here

Ira Mathur

Sunday, February 11, 2018
It happened on a pre-Carnival night with the pans being tuned in the balmy dark in yards across the city, on the cusp of hills, deep into areas where few dare to venture after nightfall.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
That rainy day when puddles settled in crevices of enclosed car park I stood by the entrance to a building holding the door open to man after man who walked in and out, none seeing the irony of it, no
Sunday, January 14, 2018
“He who awaits much can expect little.” —Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Sunday, December 31, 2017
I will be glad to see the back of 2017. If there is one image that is emblematic of last year it’s my husband and I holding on to one another for our dear lives during an earthquake.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
Sunday, December 3, 2017
The tall green doors of jail opened. A prison guard peered out, looked me in the eye and slammed it shut. I stood outside with three woman, one with a child, waiting for the guard to reappear.
Sunday, November 19, 2017
History will record that the Islamic State caliphate—a bizarre pseudo-state founded on illusory goals, created by a global horde of jihadis, and enforced with perverted viciousness—survived for three
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Sexual abuse, abandonment, ghosting after an intense relationship: unimaginable cruelty by the predator leaving victims in a dark tunnel.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
Dear You. Yes, You, the entitled, privileged man used to getting your way; You, the executive who defied your abusive father’s contemptuous prediction that you would amount to nothing; You, the engin
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Back home after 15 months in Europe, I still marvel at the light. The way it sets rooms alight like tropical blooms, slopes across the curtains and on the floor, flames like fire in the dusk.