PHOTOGRAPHER Tania Wamani TANIA WAMANI is a documentary photographer based between the Peruvian Andes and the Amazon rainforest. Her work, rooted in indigenous heritage, focuses on human rights, environmental justice, and collaborative projects with native communities. Her projects have been featured inThe Nation and local independent media. PHOTOGRAPHER WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

“The most central aspect of what we call literary modernity is that it's centered around humans: Western humans. It's not just that it excludes other kinds of beings, it also excludes most of the species we now call humanity. This doesn't change with post-1945 Western avant-gardism. If anything, that experimentalism resulted into the absolute withdrawal of the human into abstractions.” COMMUNITY Returning to the Sundarbans “The most central aspect of what we call literary modernity is that it's centered around humans: Western humans. It's not just that it excludes other kinds of beings, it also excludes most of the species we now call humanity. This doesn't change with post-1945 Western avant-gardism. If anything, that experimentalism resulted into the absolute withdrawal of the human into abstractions.” Vol. 1 FIRST TAG AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Amitav Ghosh speaks to Kartika Budhwar about the Sundarbans & climate change and its relationship with literature, literary modernity, and the Western avant-garde. During COVID lockdowns, nobody seems to have considered the fate of migrant workers who were stranded in cities. Many were so desperate they started walking home. And right then, Cyclone Amphan started in the Bay of Bengal. All these catastrophes intersect disastrously. RECOMMENDED: The Nutmeg's Curse: Parables for a Planet in Crisis (Penguin Allen Lane, 2021) by Amitav Ghosh. More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

Towards the end of FLUX, a key organizer with Muslims For Just Futures, Muslims for Abolitionist Futures, among others, performed a DJ set with Bhangra and urban music beats, featuring Major Lazer, Meesha Shafi & more, bringing a wide-ranging event about many intellectual and material shifts to an end. INTERACTIVE FLUX · A Celebratory Set by DJ Kiran AUTHOR Towards the end of FLUX, a key organizer with Muslims For Just Futures, Muslims for Abolitionist Futures, among others, performed a DJ set with Bhangra and urban music beats, featuring Major Lazer, Meesha Shafi & more, bringing a wide-ranging event about many intellectual and material shifts to an end. FLUX: An Evening in Dissent An uplifting set by DJ Kiran to dance to at the end of a weighty virtual event. Jaishri Abichandani's Art Studio Tour Kshama Sawant & Nikil Saval: A panel on US left electoralism, COVID-19, recent victories, & lasting problems. Natasha Noorani's Live Performance of "Choro" Bhavik Lathia & Jaya Sundaresh: A panel on the US Left & its relationship with media in the wake of Bernie Sanders' loss. Tarfia Faizullah: Poetry Reading Rajiv Mohabir: Poetry Reading SAAG, So Far: A Panel with the Editors ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Watch the event in full on IGTV. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct

You saw this just in time! BECOME A EARLYBIRD MEMBER BEFORE WE LAUNCH THE SAAG SHOP Get lifetime access to: a portal for year-round pitches & submissions, and discounted or free merchandise including archival art prints, zines, chapbooks, and the Book Box with the latest books from our favorite authors, free event tickets, and our first print issue. First things first: A free logo tote in the language of your choice, currently including Bangla, Burmese, Dhivehi, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Malayalam, Meitei, Sinhala, Tamil, Telugu, Urdu, with more in the pipeline. If you'd like it in another language, we'll get cracking right away. DOWNLOAD OUR LOGOTYPE PROOF SHEET SIGN UP Donate South Asian Avant-Garde is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. Your donations support our contributors, staffers, and artists. It also allows us to expand our internationalist mission and seek out contributors globally. All donations are tax-deductible . For wire details or an address to email the check, please email subscriptions@saaganthology.com Recurring Donations Cancel or change anytime. Frequency One time One time Monthly Monthly Yearly Yearly Amount US$10 US$10 US$50 US$50 US$100 US$100 US$200 US$200 US$500 US$500 US$1,000 US$1,000 Other Other 0/100 Comment (optional) Donate US$100 Monthly

DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHER Abhishek Basu ABHISHEK BASU , originally from Tatanagar in Jharkhand, is a freelance art/documentary photographer, who works for various publishing houses on experimental story telling techniques, book design, curation and multimedia. His quarterly tabloid initiative, Provoke Papers , focuses on migration and labour relations. It takes root in a series titled How green was my mountain, which is his 4-year-long documentation of the coal mines of Jharkhand's Jharia district, 60 kms. from his hometown. Taking to Abbas’s advice, “buy a pair of shoes and fall in love with it”, Abhishek’s subjects span the wide variety of where life and his understanding of it have taken him. If there had to be a universal thread/subtext to his works it would be his exploration of the starkness of the human condition attempting to make you see it for what it is. His work has been published in magazines like Himal Southasian, The Wire, Burn Magazine, The Firstpost and Quint . DOCUMENTARY PHOTOGRAPHER WEBSITE INSTAGRAM TWITTER Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 Heading 5 Heading 6 Heading 6 LOAD MORE

During the general election, prominent Indian political parties vied for villagers' affection in the Sundarbans, albeit turning a blind eye to the ongoing climate catastrophe. As demands for climate-conscious infrastructure and humanitarian relief go unappraised, people in the region are reckoning with the logical consequences of that apathy. THE VERTICAL Sinking the Body Politic During the general election, prominent Indian political parties vied for villagers' affection in the Sundarbans, albeit turning a blind eye to the ongoing climate catastrophe. As demands for climate-conscious infrastructure and humanitarian relief go unappraised, people in the region are reckoning with the logical consequences of that apathy. Vol. 2 FIRST TAG AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Backwaters, courtesy of Radhika Dinesh. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Backwaters, courtesy of Radhika Dinesh. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. In Satjelia village, nearly a hundred kilometres from Kolkata, the largest city of eastern India, every family lives with memories of disaster. In the last week of May, they were again in panic with the announcement of Cyclone Remal hitting the eastern part of India. They spent sleepless nights at the makeshift relief centre fearing that their homes will again be lost, their crops will again be destroyed, and their land will turn unfit for agriculture for a long time with saline water flooding fields. “I still haven’t been able to recover fully from the losses I suffered from Cyclone Alia in 2009,” says Srimanti Sinha, who lives in a small hutment about a kilometre away from the river. Her home was swept away in the cyclone. Every time there is a storm, she is reminded of that time. “We keep praying that the water levels do not rise up enough to breach the embankment again.” This time, though, just before Cyclone Remal hit eastern India, candidates for the 2024 general elections paid the village a visit ahead of voting on 1st June. Every major party had fielded a candidate for the region with the main contestants being from the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), the Trinamul Congress, and the I.N.D.I.A alliance. The candidates spoke about violence, religious issues, development, ending corruption, and building a strong nation. Somehow, they managed to skip over far more immediate concerns . In Satjelia, the demand is for stronger dams and embankments to protect the land from floods. The people also want support for farmers to reduce migration for work to faraway states like Kerala and Andhra Pradesh. “What [politicians] have spoken about is important for us too,” Sinha says. “But I wish they also spoke about what we need here the most.” Satjelia is situated in the middle of a ring of islands in the Sundarban delta: home to the largest mangrove forest in the world and over four million people. Like Sinha and others in Satjelia, people in several parts of the delta have suffered losses from cyclones and steadily rising water levels. In the past two decades, the sea level in the Sundarbans has risen by three centimeters a year, according to satellite imagery and media reports , which is among the fastest coastal erosion rates globally. In 2021, Cyclone Yaas destroyed over three lakh homes as seawater breached embankments in many parts of the state. Before that, tropical cyclones—whether Fani (May 2019), Bulbul (November 2019), or Amphan (May 2020)—battered this region. Each time, embankments were breached, and saline water entered agricultural land, causing immense loss of earnings and subsequent distress migration. Among these, Amphan was the most severe, killing over 100 people and leaving hundreds of thousands homeless. After repeated losses to their land and belongings, most young people from islands like Sagar and Mousuni have migrated to the country’s southernmost states, Kerala and Tamil Nadu, over a thousand kilometers away, in search of new livelihoods. They now work as daily wage labourers and contract workers at construction sites, in factories, and on large fishing vessels. Those still living close to the water in Sundarban are desperate to move away, but they receive little to no assistance from the government. After big storms, there are announcements of relocation for victims. According to people in the villages, however, not much of that is seen happening. Bapi Bor, who lives in Bankimnagar, a village on the island near the Bay of Bengal, says homes are flooded even during high tides in parts of the delta, including Sagar Island. Sagar Island is a hub of climate refugees, being one of the largest islands in the delta. People have shifted here from small neighbouring islands like Lohachora and Ghoramara, which have been sinking in the past two decades. Now, as the water levels continue rising and Sagar Island keeps sinking, these refugees are again on the verge of losing their homes. The Sundarban delta, despite being one of the most ravaged areas by climate change globally, has been met with staggering apathy from the Indian political class. Meanwhile, a tussle between the central and state government in West Bengal has further exacerbated the poor quality of life in the Sundarbans. Many small dams throughout the islands were maintained by local construction labourers, whose work was compensated with money from the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act of 2005. This national program for employment security ensured 100 days of work for people in rural India. “That money has stopped coming from the central government as they have accused the state government [of West Bengal] of corruption,” says Tanmay Mandal, a member of the village council in Rangabelia village near Satjelia. He explains that this is a serious problem for the islands since much work was done under that scheme, from maintaining earthen embankments to planting mangroves. On paper, the major political parties acknowledge the climate crisis—to varying degrees, as would be expected. BJP’s manifesto mentions it briefly, focusing more on “nature-friendly, climate-resilient, remunerative agriculture” and “coastal resilience against climate change.” The manifesto of the Indian National Congress has more detailed plans with a 13-point program under the heading “Environment, Climate Change and Disaster Management.” Meanwhile, the Trinamool Congress manifesto is more specific to Bengal and includes the crisis of the Sundarban delta. They mention specifically that “TMC will implement strategies to protect the rivers of Bengal, including all the vulnerable riverbanks of the state, from erosion and to safeguard communities from floods.” And yet, as the campaigns in West Bengal became more fervent, climate change remained a curio of the manifestos. In the speeches and rallies, it was lost amidst loud rhetoric about religion and rising prices. To be sure, this indifference is not limited to the delta. As the general elections rolled on from 19th April to 1st June, several parts of India were hit by a heat wave that claimed over 56 lives, of which 33 were polling officers. That tragedy, too, had little impact on the campaigns. According to Samir Kumar Das, a professor of political science at Calcutta University, the unfortunate reality of climate change is that it is only discussed when there is controversy. In other words: when the display of apathy becomes untenable, and crises become political liabilities. “The media is usually after the spectacular stories,” says Das. “But rising water levels or distress migration happens slowly. So while we see a lot of coverage after a storm, we have no idea how many people had to migrate eventually.” Across the board, political attention remains woefully inadequate as floods, heat waves, and droughts increase with the impact of climate change. In the face of such a fragmented and superficial political response, Das proposes a larger comprehensive approach, such as a central policy for distress migration. At the same time, Das notes that the climate crisis is being discussed more as it is increasingly affecting the cities in the form of a water crisis and unbearable heat waves. “The media cannot ignore it now,” he says. Das sees a shift in people's response to the crisis in the Sundarbans. “People are more vocal about what they need,” he observes. “Alms after a storm are not enough to satisfy them.” Instead, people are asking more difficult questions about the dams and infrastructure that are indicative of the broader scope of the problem. Some, of course, are intervening themselves. “It could be the beginning,” Das suggests, “of a new kind of pressure the political organisations can feel.” Then again, who can say how long it will take for apathy to become untenable? ∎ More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

Some strands of feminist organising in Pakistan are rethinking strategy, moving away from symbolic demonstrations that reinforce echo chambers, and towards quieter, more embedded forms of collective work. Women Democratic Front’s Behnon ki Baithak on 8 March 2025 was one such experiment, exploring how to hold space and cultivate political power through intimate modes of gathering, conversation, and reflection. THE VERTICAL After the March Some strands of feminist organising in Pakistan are rethinking strategy, moving away from symbolic demonstrations that reinforce echo chambers, and towards quieter, more embedded forms of collective work. Women Democratic Front’s Behnon ki Baithak on 8 March 2025 was one such experiment, exploring how to hold space and cultivate political power through intimate modes of gathering, conversation, and reflection. Vol. 2 FIRST TAG AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Anita Zehra Fisted Rose (2025) Digital illustration ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Anita Zehra Fisted Rose (2025) Digital illustration SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. On March 8, 2020, I left D-Chowk feeling exhausted. After enduring stone pelting in broad daylight and the absolute chaos that followed, nothing felt like a victory. I did not even feel relief, just exhaustion. We later found out that the march had been infiltrated by random men—some nefarious, others your garden-variety voyeurs—and that many marchers were harassed. People did not leave the space feeling jubilant. Neither did I. It did not feel like the show was worth it. A year later, on the morning of March 8, 2021, we held our breaths as we watched a video of the Jamia Hafsa women preparing to march against us "shameless” women. "We will go wherever they go," they said, whether to the Press Club or D-Chowk. "This matter is beyond our tolerance." They spoke of their negotiations with the police, who had assured them that anyone attempting to leave would be arrested. They said they were not afraid of arrests. If Aurat Azadi March was to be allowed to proceed in Islamabad, no one could stop the Jamia Hafsa from taking to the streets and following us. "I urge my sons and brothers to join us, as they have before. These dishonourable, parentless, so-called free women must be eradicated." Ah, wonderful—now there would be men joining in to attack us too. Another year, another swarm of angry men? Thanks, ladies, but we will pass. In any case, we started preparing for the likelihood of violence, rummaging through a comrade’s house for Swiss knives, scissors…anything, really. One comrade came to the march armed with homemade pepper spray for everyone. Another attempted to teach us self-defence “kung fu” at double speed early in the morning, as if we were in a training montage. One (possibly me) suggested an alternative: a well-aimed handful of chaat masala straight to the eyes. We had not gotten a No Objection Certificate (NOC), despite having applied for one many weeks in advance. One parliamentarian had already backed out, saying she had no interest in showing up just to get smacked around by right-wing goons. Still, my phone would not stop buzzing. People kept calling, and I told them, with the utmost sincerity, to stay put until we made it to D-Chowk, hopefully in one piece. Especially if they were thinking of bringing kids along. My brother, of course, ignored all warnings and showed up anyway. Our self-defence team was primed for a confrontation, more prepared than ever. The police were there too, in full force, as if we were an invading army rather than a peaceful march. Eventually, against all odds, we made it to D-Chowk. The relief hit us so hard that we did the only logical thing: we broke into dance. Somewhere on the interwebs, there is still a video of us at D-Chowk, swaying to Dane Pe Dana like nothing else mattered. I watched it again just now and burst into tears. Because that singular, fleeting act of joy ended up costing some of us so much, we had to rethink our politics from the ground up. Marching on March 8th should be as routine as a cup of chai after a long day. International Working Women’s Day is marked worldwide with marches, so why have Pakistan’s Women’s Day marches been turned into battlegrounds ? How far behind are we as a society that the one day we step onto the streets, the one day we make ourselves visible, comes with a price tag of backlash and repression? Why can we not just march and call it a day? Instead, we strategise round the clock for our own safety, draft applications for NOCs, and negotiate with the state, particularly law enforcement agencies, just to set foot on the streets. Meanwhile, the Haya March exists for the mere purpose of opposing us, with no agenda beyond its reactionary rage, like an annoying younger sibling who only pipes up when you are about to do something interesting. At the same time, women within Islamabad’s left were deliberately targeted, some ensnared in legal battles that stretched on until October. Through it all, our male comrades offered unwavering support, standing by us when we could no longer stand on our own. Why do we glorify suffering in our movements as if it is a rite of passage? What good is injury when it leaves us too hampered to continue organising? When it stops us in our tracks? And after the march, who will take up the unrelenting, year-round work of organising to slowly build the collective strength of people, once the handful who are still committed to this work—whether through being silenced, forced to leave, or worn down—are no longer able to carry on? But all of that is water under the bridge. Revolution demands destruction sometimes: that we let go of what we once held dear. There is a time and place for confrontation. It has its own role, its own value. When the founding members of Women Democratic Front (WDF) held the first Aurat Azadi March in Islamabad on March 8, 2018 , it did not emerge out of nowhere. It was a conscious, years-long effort to move beyond the small, NGO-driven gatherings of “civil society.” My comrades wanted a visibly leftist demonstration shaped by the energy and people of the cities we were organising in, something that did not just make space but took it. There is plenty we oppose, and plenty of people who oppose us. But what do we stand for ? What do we want to build? The years 2020 and 2021 forced us to confront these questions head-on. Sacrifices were made. Fights broke out. Splintering happened. We criticised ourselves, and each other, in closed settings to the point of self-flagellation. Fingers were pointed; friendships were irreparably lost. It is gut-wrenching that all of us, individually and collectively, had to give something up. But if the world is already bursting at the seams, then breaking through is always going to be messy. One thing remains undeniable: we are responsible for and to one another. And if our politics is not rooted in care and love for one another, then what exactly are we building? We do not talk about strategy nearly enough, not just within the feminist movement, but across the left as a whole. When we organised two jalsas (assemblies) in 2022 and 2023 , the reflection of several years was at the forefront: women and khwaja siras are being murdered in this country with horrifying regularity. We cannot afford to pretend that how we organise does not have direct consequences for them. If I shout something from the stage, if I hold up a placard declaring what I believe, it will have a ripple effect, because we have become too visible to escape the backlash. We have already seen the consequences. Women in informal settlements, where some of us have spent years organising, are stopped from joining us. We know this has happened. Society reacts. Violence escalates. We have no choice but to prepare for it. There is no point in imagining feminist possibilities if we cannot imagine them with as many people in this country as possible. Mera jism, meri marzi (my body, my right), without question. I believe in this slogan with every fibre of my being and will defend it, loudly and unapologetically, for as long as I live. But there is still more convincing to do. And if we organise in ways that invite backlash so overwhelming that it peters out our voices, we risk losing ground. The movement we are building may serve us, but it can still fail countless other women. This is why building people-power is more urgent than ever. And we must do so in a way that honours our own time and energy, so that we can organise not just for a single day, but sustain the work year-round. We need solidarities that extend beyond those who already agree with us, because otherwise, we are only preaching to the choir. It is remarkable that women organise at all. There are not many of us, because life inevitably gets in the way. We are holding down jobs (I work two AND organise), running households, and managing domestic responsibilities. We are caught in the web of patriarchal restrictions, state paternalism, violence, care work, domestic labour, economic survival, and mobility constraints—you name it. We cannot outrun time, no matter how much we try. So we have to move at a pace we can sustain, as long as we remain politically committed. And we are done engaging on the state’s terms, done engaging on patriarchy’s terms. We need to be more opaque, not give too much away. This is where the act of rebuilding becomes all the more important. We cannot be afraid to start from scratch. We have to believe in our own staying power. For International Working Women’s Day 2025, WDF organised a “ behnon ki baithak ” after a year of stepping back and reflecting, instead of the march, in Islamabad, Karachi, and Lahore. We were not expecting a huge turnout and did the best we could with the limited hands on deck, only for the crowds to surpass our expectations. People showed up (with men respectfully sitting at the back) because they felt they had a stake in the conversation. In Islamabad, women who did not know each other spoke in smaller groups and built new relationships beyond the ones their class restricts them to. In Karachi, whether they were new faces, WDF members, or the women of Malir, everybody spoke in a space they created lovingly for themselves. In Lahore, women sang feminist songs and read out poetry and stories to one another. It was not a march, not a mass gathering, not something that courted visibility. But it was a space we carved with intent, a nod toward what must endure. And we will go on building, piece by piece, until what is ours can no longer be undone. If you honour only one form of struggle, you are not honouring history, you are distorting it. You are flattening its depth, silencing its echoes, and erasing those who fought just as hard. The baithak was a reminder that feminist organising takes many forms, each with its own purpose and power. Marches have been crucial in asserting the presence of feminists across Pakistan, shifting public discourse, and making visible what the state and society seek to erase. But the work ahead requires strategy that extends beyond the moment: because political moments do pass and momentum has to, then, be built from scratch. Our conversations have to deepen, solidarities have to expand, and political commitments have to translate into continued, dogged, year-around action. The future of feminist organising in Pakistan lies in our ability to move between the visible and the unseen, the loud and the quiet, the streets and the everyday. What we build now must not only resist but endure.∎ More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

An ambitious collaboration between Dhivehi visual and performance artists, experimental and folk musicians, typographers, and people from the many atolls of the Maldives creating vital cultural spaces in Malé—one that sheds light on how Maldivian artists use unified and disparate aesthetics to reflect on class, space, and politics. BOOKS & ARTS A Dhivehi Artists Showcase AUTHOR An ambitious collaboration between Dhivehi visual and performance artists, experimental and folk musicians, typographers, and people from the many atolls of the Maldives creating vital cultural spaces in Malé—one that sheds light on how Maldivian artists use unified and disparate aesthetics to reflect on class, space, and politics. For our event In Grief, In Solidarity on 5th June 2021, we featured the most ambitious collaboration SAAG has attempted to date, with over 20 Maldivian performance artists, visual artists, musicians, typographers, artist collectives, and poets in a wide-ranging showcase on a range of Dhivehi art. Curated by Kareen Adam and Associate Editor Nazish Chunara, the showcase was meant to glimpse the art practices in an overlooked country and demonstrate the perspectives one misses as a consequence of overlooking whole communities and peoples. It is a paradigmatic problem for the international Left: Why do we so often take borders for granted in practice, even if we fervently do not wish to in principle? The showcase also provides a counterpoint to what people often associate with Maldivian: as merely an exclusionary, elite haven for tourists. The music and poetry are intentionally not subtitled, as SAAG, the magazine, shifts into multilingual presentation. We hope to strike against the expectation that population size should dictate such expectations and consider Dhivehi aesthetics and politics on their terms. Artists and collectives featured include Afzal Shaafiu, Aishath Huda, Beatz Crew, Cartman Ayya, DIONYSIAC , Eagan Badeeu, Firushana Naseem, Little Faratas N’ Monkey, Mohamed Ikram, Mariyam Omar, Mary Halym, Meyna Hassaan, Nadee Rachey, Nashiu Zahir, Nur Danya, Raya Ali a.k.a. Echnoid, Symbolic Records , and Yazan. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Follow our YouTube channel for updates from past or future events. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct

Our live event FLUX: An Evening in Dissent began with an unplugged performance by Pakistani folk-pop musician Natasha Noorani of the unreleased title track from her upcoming album. INTERACTIVE FLUX · Natasha Noorani Unplugged: "Choro" Our live event FLUX: An Evening in Dissent began with an unplugged performance by Pakistani folk-pop musician Natasha Noorani of the unreleased title track from her upcoming album. Vol. 1 FIRST TAG AUTHOR AUTHOR AUTHOR Watch the event in full on IGTV. ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Watch the event in full on IGTV. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. FLUX: An Evening in Dissent A pre-release, unplugged version of Natasha Noorani's as-yet-unreleased single "Choro." The official music video followed by a Q&A on the video's aesthetic was subsequently featured in our 2021 event "In Grief, In Solidarity." Jaishri Abichandani's Art Studio Tour Kshama Sawant & Nikil Saval: A panel on US left electoralism, COVID19, recent victories, & lasting problems. Tarfia Faizullah: Poetry Reading Bhavik Lathia & Jaya Sundaresh: A panel on the US Left & its relationship with media in the wake of Bernie Sanders' loss. Rajiv Mohabir: Poetry Reading SAAG, So Far: A Panel with the Editors DJ Kiran: A Celebratory Set More Fiction & Poetry: Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5 Date Authors Heading 5

Beatrice Wangui's quest to challenge Kenya’s punitive seed laws tells a larger story about the nature of indigenous knowledge and preservation, as well as that of agrarian labour, situated in a longer history of the public and private approaches to agriculture that are promulgated under the guise of modernization. THE VERTICAL Beatrice Wangui's Fight for Seed Sovereignty in Kenya AUTHOR Beatrice Wangui's quest to challenge Kenya’s punitive seed laws tells a larger story about the nature of indigenous knowledge and preservation, as well as that of agrarian labour, situated in a longer history of the public and private approaches to agriculture that are promulgated under the guise of modernization. Farming has always been a bonding point between my father and me. When I ventured into agriculture, I only understood food systems from the point of small-scale farming. As a way of learning, my father would often bring some seeds and cuttings when he went somewhere new. This was one of the ways we introduced new foods to our small farm and onto our plates. In 2012, the Kenyan government enacted a law that made seed saving and exchange illegal, thereby posing a threat to an indigenous system of seed exchange that has persisted for eons. When I arrived at Beatrice Wangui’s house she was showing farmers how to build a vertical garden. Her home is an oasis in the dry Gilgil area and a large group of farmers, local and from other countries, stood around her as she showed them how to make a blend of manure, charcoal dust, and soil to grow vegetables in. This is a regular activity on her small but well-sectioned agricultural island. One side of her farm is a thriving bunch of vertical gardens teeming with leafy greens. Corners on the ground spot herbs like mint and rosemary. There is a short spread of beds hosting at least six varieties of managu (black nightshade ) , terere (Amaranth ) , mitoo (slenderleaf) and saget (spider plant). Now 59 years old, Beatrice has been an organic farmer for many years as well as champion of seed sovereignty. Indigenous communities in Kenya have had to work around the systemic effects and hurdles in the way of corporate capture of seeds, promulgated in the form of millions of US dollars by international seed companies to monopolize the seed sectors in Africa. I wanted to dive into the world of seed saving to see how people responded to or worked around the law that criminalized these traditions. Beatrice training a group of visitors on creating vertical gardens. Photo courtesy of the author. Seed sovereignty upholds the farmer’s right to save, use, exchange, and sell his or her own seeds. Seed regulation in Kenya began in 1972, ten years after the country gained independence. The Seed and Plant Varieties Act of 1972 entered into force in 1975, was promulgated in 1991, and later amended in 1994. While Kenya joined the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 1995, the country had already enacted its own unique (sui generis) law on Plant Breeders' Rights (PBRs). However, this PBR law did not take effect until 1999 after Kenya ratified the 1978 Act of the International Union for the Protection of New Varieties of Plants (UPOV). In 2012, Kenya updated its PBR law through the Seeds and Plant Varieties (Amendment) Act . Then, in 2015, the country furthered its commitment to UPOV by ratifying the 1991 UPOV Convention, which outlines stronger protections for new plant varieties. Today, seed saving is an essential part of Kenyan livelihoods, especially in rural parts of the country. In Kenya, 70 percent of the rural population is dependent on agriculture. As a child, I remember when my parents would return from visiting new places with some form of seed propagation. They could be suckers for a new vegetable, vines, or a handful of seeds – all a means to grow the crops that caught my parents’ interest. This was how I came to know and love a vegetable called rhubarb. In many rural homes across Kenya, kitchens are not only a space to prepare food. Hanging on walls, under the traditional fire racks near the fireplace are seeds tied up in leaves along with calabashes. The warmth from the fire dries them out and the smoke makes them nearly pest-proof. Smoking is one of the most traditional modes of seed saving. In many communities, other methods such as diatomite, cow dung, soot, and ash are used. This is a tradition for most, if not all the communities in Kenya. Slenderleaf pods at Beatrice’s farm. Photo courtesy of the author. Punitive Seed Laws The Seed and Plant Varieties Act of 2012 criminalizes farmers from “selling, sharing and exchanging” unregistered or uncertified seeds. Farmers who break the law risk a prison sentence of up to two years or a fine of up to a million Kenyan shillings. Beatrice says she refused to keep silent in the face of laws that promote corporate greed over the lives and livelihoods of communities across the country. She joined other farmers and civil society organizations as a petitioner in a case against the law prohibiting seed saving. The alliance of farmers and activists has courageously spoken up against the laws, arguing for the rights of small-scale farmers to save, exchange, and use their seeds freely. Their persistence and hard work has inspired farmers across Kenya to join their cause. They hold seed exchange fairs to fight for the right to cultivate indigenously obtained and retained seeds. Apart from them, fifteen other small land-holding farmers have filed a petition to the court to amend the law. Speaking to Beatrice feels like a plunge in a well of seed preservation knowledge. On a tour of her seed-saving facility, she pointed out the strategic use of all the materials she had on hand. She explained how each element played a role in ensuring the survival of seeds for up to years in glass bottles. Even though her village has no piped water, the facility carries stacks of jerry cans filled with water. The water helps keep the temperature low which reduces heat damage. The room is also low and near the ground. Beatrice at her community seed bank. Courtesy of Gregory Onyango As custodian of the community seed bank, Beatrice is tasked with ensuring that the seeds are in tip-top shape by the time farmers come to collect them. “Farmers bring in their seeds after drying them,” she says. “And they must wait at least a season before they come to get seeds. A farmer cannot take all the seeds at the same time. There was a year we had two failed rainy seasons and only the last batch of the seeds made it.” It begins with inspecting the seeds for moisture content. If the seeds do not pass this test, the farmer is required to take them back and reduce the moisture content to the required level. The next step is to check out the seed's germination percentage. "This is done by picking about 10 seeds, placing them in a bowl, and covering them with a wet tissue. In about 5 days, we observe how many out of the ten have germinated," Beatrice explains. If three or fewer seeds germinate, it means the germination percentage is low and the seeds are not of good quality and cannot be stored. Depending on the quantity of seeds, some are stored in airtight glass bottles while others are stored in buckets. A film of ash from special trees and bushes is spread over the seeds to keep both moisture and pests off. With help from organizations such as The Seed Savers Network , Beatrice has been able to increase her knowledge and capacity for seed saving. The Seed Savers Network was registered in 2009 and to date, has helped establish more than 52 community seed banks, including one that Beatrice looks after. The Seed Savers Network, she says, taught them seed characterization which is a process they follow from when they plant a seed to when they harvest it. Beatrice Wangui in her garden. Courtesy of Gregory Onyango Beatrice is keen on passing on this knowledge to her children and grandchildren. Her granddaughter who is named after her and attends a local secondary school, is very hands-on with the project. She has grown up around her grandmother and has learned how to tell different varieties apart and how to preserve each of them. “When she is around and I have visitors, she teaches them just as well as I can. She understands how to handle seeds and crops alike,” she shares. For Beatrice and others like her, awareness of such methods and passing on their teaching is an integral part of the process without which indigenous knowledge would disappear. With help from organizations such as The Seed Savers Network, Beatrice can meet other seed savers from across Kenya and the world. As she shows me around, explaining varieties of maize, beans, tomatoes, and vegetables she hopes the indigenous knowledge, varieties, and preservation are not stifled by punitive seed laws. As she fights for indigenous seeds through the law and by practicing traditional methods, she hopes her cross-generational efforts pay off and the indigenous crop varieties stand the test. Beatrice is one of many people and organizations working to maintain the s tate of seed sovereignty . Despite the immense challenges posed by the corporate consolidation of the seed industry, the movement for seed sovereignty continues to gain momentum around the world. From seed libraries and seed swaps to on-the-ground breeding projects, countless individuals and communities are taking steps to reclaim their ancestral seed heritage and maintain biodiversity. By resisting the privatization of this vital common resource, seed savers stand as stewards of food security and biodiversity for present and future generations. Though the battle is an uphill one, the remarkable resilience and creative cross-pollination within the seed sovereignty movement offer a path toward a more regenerative, equitable, and sustainable food system. ∎ ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Rise by Ian Njuguna. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct

Author and translator Jenny Bhatt in conversation with Editor Kamil Ahsan. COMMUNITY Authenticity & Exoticism Author and translator Jenny Bhatt in conversation with Editor Kamil Ahsan. Jenny Bhatt Often when we get invited to public arenas, we end up having to talk about immigration, or discrimination—and we never really get to talk about craft. RECOMMENDED: The Shehnai Virtuoso and Other Stories , the first substantive English translation of the Gujarati short story pioneer, Dhumketu (1892–1965 .) The first book-length Gujarati to English translation published in the US, translated by Jenny Bhatt. Often when we get invited to public arenas, we end up having to talk about immigration, or discrimination—and we never really get to talk about craft. RECOMMENDED: The Shehnai Virtuoso and Other Stories , the first substantive English translation of the Gujarati short story pioneer, Dhumketu (1892–1965 .) The first book-length Gujarati to English translation published in the US, translated by Jenny Bhatt. SUB-HEAD ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: Kareen Adam · Nazish Chunara A Dhivehi Artists Showcase Shebani Rao A Freelancer's Guide to Decision-Making Watch the interview on YouTube or IGTV. SHARE Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Interview Dallas Diaspora Short Stories Debut Authors Writing After Loss L.L. McKinney Gujarat Riots Gujarati Modi Kuchibhotla Hindutva Paratext Authenticity Exoticism Desi Books Internationalist Solidarity Literary Solidarity Community Building Translation Affect Personal History Perspective JENNY BHATT is a writer, literary translator, and book critic. She is the founder of Desi Books , a global forum that showcases South Asian literature from the world over. She teaches creative writing at Writing Workshops Dallas and the PEN America Emerging Voices Fellowship Program. She is the author of Each of Us Killers: Stories (7.13 Books, 2020) and translated Ratno Dholi: Dhumketu’s Best Short Stories (HarperCollins India; Oct 2020), which was shortlisted for the 2021 PFC-VoW Book Awards. Her nonfiction has been published in various venues including NPR, The Washington Post, BBC Culture, The Atlantic, Publishers Weekly, Dallas Morning News, Literary Hub, Poets & Writers, Los Angeles Review of Books, The Star Tribune, and more. Sign up for her weekly newsletter, We Are All Translators here 4 Sept 2020 Interview Dallas 4th Sep 2020 Fictions of Unknowability Torsa Ghosal 28th Feb Chats Ep. 9 · On the Essay Collection “Southbound” Anjali Enjeti 19th May Kashmiri ProgRock and Experimentation as Privilege Zeeshaan Nabi 21st Dec Dissident Kid Lit Saira Mir · Shelly Anand · Vashti Harrison · Simran Jeet Singh 20th Dec Nation-State Constraints on Identity & Intimacy Chaitali Sen 17th Dec On That Note:

The Zeenat Haroon Rashid Prize Committee referred to Raniya Hosain as “an original voice with a striking command of her craft.” The essay for which she won the ZHR prize emerges from Hosain's reckoning with a dichotomy: the contradictory impulses of a rejection of the generality of women's experience of pain on one hand and a sense that there is some generality on the other, felt necessary for Hosain to think through. INTERACTIVE Chats Ep. 3 · On the 2020 ZHR Prize-Winning Essay AUTHOR The Zeenat Haroon Rashid Prize Committee referred to Raniya Hosain as “an original voice with a striking command of her craft.” The essay for which she won the ZHR prize emerges from Hosain's reckoning with a dichotomy: the contradictory impulses of a rejection of the generality of women's experience of pain on one hand and a sense that there is some generality on the other, felt necessary for Hosain to think through. A reading & discussion with Raniya Hosain, the winner of the Zeenat Haroon Rashid Prize for her essay “Portrait of a Woman in Pain.” In her discussion, Hosain discusses how, in women's organizing spaces, she felt a keen sense that despite wanting to do away with one's “womanhood,” it was womanhood itself that allowed her to feel solidarity. What universality, Hosain asks, can be found in the experience of gender. If recognizing that no one experience can create the whole seems necessary, why does the specific pain she outlines in her essay seem to be felt by all the women she knows or hears from? ALSO IN THIS ISSUE: AUTHOR Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 Heading 5 AUTHOR Heading 5 Subscribe to our newsletter for updates on SAAG Chats, an informal series of live events on Instagram. SHARE Facebook ↗ Twitter ↗ LinkedIn ↗ Tags Tags Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Tags Tags 23rd Oct 2010 Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. Add paragraph text. Click “Edit Text” to customize this theme across your site. You can update and reuse text themes. On That Note: Heading 5 23rd OCT Heading 5 23rd Oct Heading 5 23rd Oct