{"id":7758,"date":"2026-09-17T20:32:30","date_gmt":"2026-09-17T20:32:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/?page_id=7758"},"modified":"2026-10-03T06:34:34","modified_gmt":"2026-10-03T06:34:34","slug":"current-issue","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/current-issue\/","title":{"rendered":"Current Issue"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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July to September 2026<\/div>
Volume - 3 | Issue - 12<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. Kailash Nath Khandelwal \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Editorial<\/strong><\/span><\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Putting an issue together is a small act of arrangement. The manuscripts come in as separate weather systems: lyric, story, argument, tribute. An editor’s job is not to force them into one climate. It is to let them sit close enough that a reader feels the pressure change from page to page. This quarter did most of that work on its own. Submissions arrived from Brazil, Canada, France, Greece, India, Lithuania, New Zealand, Russia, Serbia and elsewhere, and kept circling back to the same handful of questions: what a life is for, when success and happiness are not the same thing; what time does to a conscience; what we owe an earth that still shades us; and what a poem, a story or a critical essay can still legislate when public speech has shrunk to a password and a swipe.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Content<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Afflatus Creations | Number-12, Volume-3 | July-September, 2026<\/strong><\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tChristina Wilson \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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There Be Dragons<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Just one last shot, the needle\u201fs now hot,
He makes a tight fist and finds the right spot.
The liquid, it floods him like fire and ice,
Finally, some peace, his soul\u201fs delight.
He slips into stupor, so far, far away,
Encompassing darkness shows him the way.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tChristina Wilson\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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To Be Me<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

What does it mean?
A question so complex.
There are five me\u201fs, all relevant. The
soul, the All Knowing,<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Dhivya Barathan\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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NATURE BLOOMED WITHIN ME<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

When my child was born,
A new morning opened in my life;
And when she smiled at me,
The whole world seemed to bloom.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. A. Arun Daves \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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LIKE SUNRAYS IN THE EVENING<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

I loved you with an unguarded heart,
and friendship became a quiet belief.
I trusted the light within your words,
like sunrays in the evening.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. A. Arun Daves \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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BETWEEN ENOUGH AND EMPTY<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

I am not happy, though I have no reason to complain.
Life has given enough for me to keep moving.
There is food, there is shelter, there are familiar faces.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. A. Arun Daves \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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The Banyan\u2019s Advice<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

\u201cDo not worry about every voice,\u201d
the old banyan whispered to me.
\u201cThey praise my shade when they need it,
then blame my roots for spreading free.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. A. Arun Daves \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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THE DAY TRUST LEARNED MY NAME<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

I loved you before I knew love’s cost,
and friendship became the home of my faith.
I gave you what I hid from others,
believing you would guard what I entrusted.
We stood beneath trees that knew our silence,
while the wind carried our words away.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. S. Sujitha \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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SERENITY IN SILENCE <\/strong><\/span><\/p>

She shared her pain with the silent sky above,
The sky turned red, then black, as if it knew her heart.
She remembered the chaos of her life,
And the sky grew heavy with her sorrow.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tEVA Petropoulou Lianou\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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My dream of togetherness<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

The sun has fallen
Behind the mountain s face
Looking at the horizon
I see your shape<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tEVA Petropoulou Lianou\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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A precious man <\/strong><\/span><\/p>

The nights and the days come and go without a smile
The days are so big without a smile
The nights are a waiting for a call or a message
It is so expensive this time away from your eyes.<\/p>

You<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

My poem
You,
That the face I did not see for years
You
U are the most amazing being
But cannot touch<\/p>

Good night poem<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

What a caterpillar maybe call the end
A butterfly call it the beginning of a beautiful journey…
The stars are so far but we can see the lights
And feel their heat
As i am thinking of you
Days and nights are together<\/p>

Love poem<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Your smile…

I dream a future with you

I dream a blue sky

Sunset to a an island<\/p>

Forgiveness<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

A word that is coming out from the brave heart
I am not asking to forgive as a Human
I am asking to forgive as a GOD
As HE has the kindness and the generosity to see the human ‘s mistake.<\/p>

Hug<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

I miss the hug
A hug that they give you and you forget the weaknesses of your existence.
I miss a kiss
The kiss that someone give you and your stomach make those noise like is full of butterflies<\/p>

Nothing belongs to us<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

We are free
We are the captain of our soul..
Nobody can say this or that and you must execute.<\/p>

Send my poem<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

_Golden bridges_
I find you
Because you were hurted
I cherish you
As i felt your pain<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. S.Florence\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Mother Nature<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Mother nature, independent of everyone
Provides everything to her children
Showers unconditional love,
Supports life, maintains ecological balance.
Her creations, plants and animals,
Thrives under her motherly care.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t G. Suswara Deepika \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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ENDurance<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

A Beautiful, Kind Woman in Green and Brown
Stood in vain feeling Blue.
The Brown Skin Humans casually throw
Colourless plastic into her to poison, pollute.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tFull Text PDF<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. Sivashankari\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tIndex No: 24<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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Nature: The Source of Joy<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Mother gave us life to spread joy,
Nature gives us strength to live in joy.
Father gave us life to thrive and grow,
Nature gives us colours that beautifully glow.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tJ. Semmalar \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tIndex No: 25<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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ETERNAL MOTHER<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

O Nature, you surround us everywhere,
With oceans, mountains, earth and light.
Your flowers and countless gifts
Make our lives beautiful and bright.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLincoln Jaques\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tIndex No:26-29<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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Language Barrier<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

When you can’t speak the language
you hide out a lot in caf\u00e9s
in countries where everyone still lights up cigarettes
you fear someone asking
for a match or if the empty seat
at your table is free
or for extra sugar sachets or
whether you think the dessert
is worth having or if the waitress
has gone nuts.<\/p>

When Cities Die<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

Each day a city dies;
yet another one deceased
today as the birds flew
over and took up residence
in the Pohutukawa.<\/p>

Those We Leave Behind<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

We used to call him
the millionaire vagrant
due to him once living
a grand lifestyle in a Chatswood
2-storey house with a fountain
in the back garden.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLopamudra Mishra\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Today’s Rain<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

The unconventional rain dashed my cockpit
The wavering silence stirred
The sequential raindrops
Suddenly brought relief from yesterday\u2019s suffering<\/p>

When I look at You<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

When I look at you
When I look at you and then me
I find the void
A mystic attraction<\/p>

Special Likeness<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Special likeness
You come as my special likeness
And occupied a corner rapturously
With your presence I smile
With your humidity my heart yells
When your thoughts glimmer<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. B. Mercy Gnanabai\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Nature Howls<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

When I am going into the Earth
I heard a screaming voice
My ears burst
Water, Ozone layer, Air, soil, land, and so on.
Those who are screaming face pain,<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tOlga Borisova\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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Bird dreams<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

And the birds dream of the sky.
Blindly responding to an unclear call,
flying into the bottomlessness of the heights,
elevating himself above everything,
and they drink freedom,
like fish in the sea water.<\/p>

Evening<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Blues of the passing day
Flashes in the sunset sky.
Amber paint beckons,
The street is calling me
So that I can scoop up the gold.<\/p>

Girl and pigeons<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Tiny snow falls from the sky,
Like a message from distant worlds.
The pigeons ask not for snow, but for bread,
Flocking in flocks from surrounding yards.<\/p>

On Bridge<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

I climbed onto the bridge. Leaning on the railing,
I look into the distance at the brisk running of the wave.
What force moves the mass of waters,
What power comes from the depths?!<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Photini Karamouzis chalkias\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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IF I COULD BE THERE\u2026.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

The world has changed\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026..
Present decays on a keyboard
Enigmatic glossy smiles in quick pursuit
dazzled of your dangerous charm
My eyes see differently now,
hopes that could be true<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Raisa Melnikova \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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A sensitive imperative<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

The wind scatters blurred thoughts
across the windowpane,
confirming the rising rating
of the daily substitution of meanings.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tSubhransu Maitra\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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KINNARI VEENA<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

Now an old, stringed instrument.
An item in the gallery of antique
musical instruments in the local museum.<\/p>

SUPPLICANT<\/strong> <\/span><\/p>

Twenty-three centuries ago
Devadatta inscribed his longing
for the temple dancer Sutanika
in three lines of verse<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Sudha V\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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I AM RAIN<\/strong><\/span><\/p>

I rise from the clouds above,
A quiet gift from the sky.
No one knows when I will come,
Yet the earth waits for me.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tTaghrid Bou Merhi \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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EXISTENCE ECHO<\/span> <\/strong><\/p>

I ask the stone beneath my wandering feet,
what it remembers of being still.
And it answers with silence,
older than language.
I ask the wind:
why does it refuse to remain?
It laughs,
and becomes another direction.
I ask the sea:
why does it never learn the shore?
It writes its question again,
in erased foam.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tViji S\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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I AM MOTHER NATUR<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

I am Mother Nature\u2014boundless, sovereign, and free,
In every pulse of existence, you will encounter me.
I travel through rivers that twist through the land,
And dance with the breeze as it sweeps through the sand.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tWolfgang B. Sperlich \t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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SHANGHAI<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

Last week in Shanghai
We came back from the future
To stone-age Auckland
And the end of history
We surfed a gleaming surface
Highrise capitalism<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. H.C. Natalie Bisso\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Taciturnity<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

How little we have to say! How simple our language has become! Very rarely do we say more than
one word. And how many accompanying words parasites, making speech monotonous. Typical
topics for the conversation. So typical that their absence would not lead to any damage. After all, all
the information can be taken from the Internet and without speech, just writing a word in a line… of
Course, the twenty-first century is the age of the word… One word.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. S. Florence\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Confluence of Nature and Man\u00a0<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

Once in a rural village lived a old couple in a small hut near the forest. Many animals have their
dwelling place there. They enjoyed life. They have five boy children.
The seven lead a happy joyful life, as they are in harmony with nature. They had hot times, chill
times, but everything was optimum, for the place is full of trees. They grow vegetables for their
own, drank the water from the spring, have fruits from the forest. They cooked food in mud pots,
collected wood from the nearby places for cooking.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tViji S.\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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WHAT WE CHOOSE TO KEEP\u00a0<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

The notice appeared on a Tuesday morning.
At first, hardly anyone paid attention to it.
It was pinned to the notice board outside the administrative office, between a circular about internal
marks and a notice about a missing identity card. Students walked past it on their way to class.
Someone stood in front of it for a few seconds, read it, and moved on.
By ten o’clock, half the college knew.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tOlga Borisova\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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The role<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

She was known as a talented actress, a well-off woman who had married a famous director
advantageously, and she lived out other people\u2019s lives without ever reflecting on the fates of the
heroines she portrayed. The roles she was given varied greatly: dreamy young women searching for
happiness, vengeful women willing to do anything to punish an offender, na\u00efve fools, and cunning
mistresses.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tYuri Moskalenko\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Apple tree, apple, and Lenochka<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

A woman’s fate is always winding. Like narrow paths leading to the foot of Mount Elbrus. A
woman’s disposition resembles a mountain stream, its waters crystal clear, allowing you to see
every grain of sand at the bottom without a telescope. It sounds like a bowstring, drowning out the
songs of birds and the chirping of cicadas, as it slowly erodes the sharp rocks of the rapids,
enveloping them in its pristine purity.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. A. Arun Daves\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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THE TREE THAT KEPT GROWING<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

An old tree stood beside a broken compound wall at the end of our street. Nobody knew who had
planted it, and I had never seen anyone water it. Perhaps a bird had carried the seed, or perhaps the
wind had brought it from somewhere beyond the houses. Somehow, it had found a little space
between the stones and taken root. Its trunk was uneven, some branches had been damaged over the
years, and its roots had begun to lift parts of the pavement. Yet it had survived many summers and
monsoons. During the hottest afternoons, people stood beneath its shade, children played around its
roots, and birds found shelter among its branches. The tree gave what it had without asking who
deserved it.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDr. Jernail S. Anand\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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FIGHTING MORAL INERTIA<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

How do we describe the young men and women of today? In the studies they pursue and the careers
they chase, there is a near absence of moral orientation. Can we call them amoral? They have little
idea that there has been a long tradition of moral thought which has meandered alongside the
political transformations of society.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tRaisa Melnikova\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Movement in Time<\/span><\/strong><\/p>

“Time is the distance of movement.”
Zeno of Citium<\/p>


What does time mean to us?<\/p>

Zeno of Citium (Zeno of Citium, 334\/333 BC \u2013 262\/261 BC), an ancient Greek philosopher
and founder of the Stoic school, asserted that “Time is the distance of movement.” The next
question immediately arises: the distance of movement from which point to which? In the
calculation of time, everything is clear from the microsecond to infinity. But what about human life,
from birth to death?<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tMusharraf Ali\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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Why are sexual crimes not stopping? <\/span><\/strong><\/p>

Introduction: The Illusion of Strict Laws<\/span><\/pre>
Ever since the gang rape of a medical student in Delhi on December 16, 2012, sexual crimes have
continuously remained a subject of discussion in the country to this day. It is a result of public
pressure\u2014built after the media prominently featured such news\u2014that forced the government to
enact strict laws against rape. As much as this incident shook the people, and as much
condemnation and hatred toward sexual offenders came from the public, it felt as though fear would
be instilled in them and that this heinous crime would decrease.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Beyond Borders: Why the World Continues to Pay Attention to Maja Herman <\/strong><\/span>
Sekuli\u0107<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
While sections of the Serbian media have often overlooked her achievements, the international 
literary community has continued to follow the career of Maja Herman Sekuli\u0107 with sustained 
interest. For readers and critics far beyond the Balkans, her work has long belonged to a broader 
cultural conversation that transcends national boundaries.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t Timothee Bordenave\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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The Solidified Plastic Component.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
In the daily use of items made of metal\u2014and often, around me, of that rust-proof metal that allows\u00a0 for longer service life and offers the properties associated with metals and alloys (specifically\u00a0 resistance to pressure or torsion\u2014or, to put it another way, solidity, at least as far as I can\u00a0 observe)\u2014a very simple thought occurred to me (which you might deem naive): many of these\u00a0 metal alloys, or metals rendered rust-proof through chemistry, could easily be replaced by other\u00a0 materials for the same purposes and with virtually the same utility\u2014often, I believe, with even\u00a0 greater practical utility\u2014and, from what I gather, at a much lower cost! Specifically, they could be replaced by some of the plastic materials that modern chemistry enables us to create!<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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POETS AS VISIONARIES<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
Abstract:<\/strong><\/p>
This paper discusses the recent find of Shelley\u2018s (presumed lost) poem written 200 years ago entitled: A Political Essay on The Existing State of Things. A comparison is then made of the subject matter of this poem with that of my own, and my great grandmother\u2018s poetry which shows that this\\ work of Shelley\u2018s is as relevant today as it was in the early 1800s. The suggestion is made that the best poets are visionaries and I use the above examples to illustrate this claim.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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The Poetry of Gopal Lahiri: A Weaver of Magic and Mystery\u00a0<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
Abstract: This paper critically discusses the poetry of Mumbai based, Indian poet Gopal Lahiri. It focuses on his three published volumes of poetry \u2013 Silent Steps (Cyberwit): Living Inside (Authorspress); and Tidal Interlude (Shambhabi). I argue that Lahiri is like an ethereal gypsy of the night, his poems weaving magic spells which delight the soul and stir the heart. His poems cover a broad range of themes but always nature in her beauty and mystery is close at hand. Lahiri is a professional earth scientist and I believe his close contact with the world of nature has expanded his appreciation and understanding of the subtleties and moods of the earth. His personal love poems are gentle and poignant, quite often bittersweet, and reflect upon the love we may desire but cannot always have. His mystical poems evoke the moon, the heavens and all the mysteries of our inner worlds, I personally like these poems the most as we get a sense of something we cannot completely grasp but know is just beyond the veil of illusion. Lahiri\u201fs activist poems are confronting and seek to bring about change for the downtrodden of the world, these poems are visionary in intent and are particularly relevant in contemporary Indian society where the disparity between the \u201chaves\u201d and the \u201chave-nots\u201d is perhaps more obvious than in most other countries, in fact, existing side-by-side on a daily basis.<\/p>
Keywords:<\/strong> Gopal Lahiri, poetry, Living Inside, Silent Steps, Tidal Interlude, the moon, weaving magic.<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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The Poetry of Sunil Sharma: An Expression of Love and Liberal Humanism<\/strong><\/span><\/p>Some poets are concerned with their own personal relationships – their poetry speaks of loves, fears, 
their children and so on from a self-centred position; others are concerned with cultural, spiritual 
and mystical themes carrying themselves and their readers to ethereal worlds; still others are 
orientated towards hard-hitting politically activist themes in an attempt to help fix a fractured world. 
Sharma’s poems are informed by a liberal humanism which at times encapsulates all of the above 
themes though in subtle and gentle ways. As an example consider the following emotionally 
charged lines from\u201cThe Children of the Indian Flower-sellers\u201d (Sharma, GC):<\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Reconnecting with the Sublime:The Poetry of Vijay Kumar Roy<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
This paper is a critical discussion of the poetry of Vijay Kumar Roy, particularly that which is 
presented in his recent book, Realm of Beauty and Truth: A Collection of Poems (2016).These 
poems are like a cry from the wilderness, or perhaps the Wasteland, that is, the decadent, secular, 
consumerist orientated global village we live in at the start of the 21st century. One main feature of 
Roy’s poetry is that he does not just complain about or describe how bad and unhappy the 
contemporary world is, in a rather gentle way he juxtaposes opposites. For example, he may alert us 
to an aspect of environmental destruction but in the same poem celebrates the beauty and delicate 
balance of nature as it once was. The first poem in this book is a good example:<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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An introspective look into Rajiv Khandelwal\u2019s Crystalline Tidings<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
Abstract: <\/strong><\/p>
\u201cCrystallineTidings\u201d a collection of sixty five poems penned by Rajiv Khandelwal, one of the globally known Indo-Anglian poets of honour and accomplishment of contemporary period and published by Ukiyoto Publishing, India, is like a torch to lead us all along the track of sensitive poetry or the poetry that aims at seeking the meaning of life with stresses on socio-cultural dynamics and existential dilemmas of modern times. He has excelled in the task of regenerating sense and conscience of what is beautiful as well as dutiful about the world in all these poems that are marked with symbols, similes and mellifluous metaphors.<\/p>
Key words:<\/strong> Childhood Memories, Love, Religion, Humanism, Covid Time, Social crimes, Death and Emptiness<\/p><\/div>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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Comings and Goings<\/strong><\/span><\/p>
Comings and Goings 
( Sonnet from “Butterfliy Dreaming”) 
Tiger time would seize 
Each molecular moment 
Underlying the undulating 
Fierce fiery fluctuations- 
Freak frequencies 
Of energy’s continuations:<\/p>
Song and dance of time, continues..<\/span><\/strong><\/p><\/div>
In our souls things meld and mesh, 
Though gravity sucks away our flesh, 
And in time’s expansion-contraction, 
Restless minds, swayed by distraction, 
Lose hold of true beautiful identity, 
And the hurdygurdy dance of density 
Whirls us away from the immensity 
Of who and what and why we are:<\/p>
Sonnet to Seeds in time… (from “Butterfly Dreaming…”)<\/span><\/strong><\/p>
The hoary moonlitfrost of age, 
Reflecting (on) youth’s golden face, 
As one with the other (self) does engage: 
With snowhite seeds, expectant, sage, 
That wait to write upon the empty page 
Of fleeting time, and its fluctuating pace- 
Whilst the forgiving mirror,<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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July to September 2026 Volume – 3 | Issue – 12 Dr. Kailash Nath Khandelwal Editorial Putting an issue together is a small act of arrangement. The manuscripts come in as separate weather systems: lyric, story, argument, tribute. An editor’s job is not to force them into one climate. It is to let them sit […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"elementor_header_footer","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-7758","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nCurrent Issue - Afflatus Creations<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/afflatuscreations.com\/index.php\/current-issue\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Current Issue - Afflatus Creations\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"July to September 2026 Volume – 3 | Issue – 12 Dr. Kailash Nath Khandelwal Editorial Putting an issue together is a small act of arrangement. The manuscripts come in as separate weather systems: lyric, story, argument, tribute. An editor’s job is not to force them into one climate. 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