Print edition : September 29, 2017

Excerpt from Neermai by Na. Muthuswamy, and translated by David Shulman and S Ramakrishnan.

The lamp hung from a hook at the end of a chain attached to a rafter. It was rusted and stirred up a memory of the person who hung it there. As the chain swayed, it cast the shadow of the lamp on the wall and the floor in turn. All the things in the room, and she too, moved with the shadow, displaced. The shadows on the floor climbed on to the wall, losing their shape, frightening us. You could give a name to every shadow. Among them her shadow danced like a huge phantom. It took some time to settle down, like coming out of a stupor.

A letter from the Editor

Dear reader,

The COVID-19-induced lockdown and the absolute necessity for human beings to maintain a physical distance from one another in order to contain the pandemic has changed our lives in unimaginable ways. The print medium all over the world is no exception.

As the distribution of printed copies is unlikely to resume any time soon, Frontline will come to you only through the digital platform until the return of normality. The resources needed to keep up the good work that Frontline has been doing for the past 35 years and more are immense. It is a long journey indeed. Readers who have been part of this journey are our source of strength.

Subscribing to the online edition, I am confident, will make it mutually beneficial.


R. Vijaya Sankar

Editor, Frontline

Support Quality Journalism
This article is closed for comments.
Please Email the Editor