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nostalgia tastes like


Mugdhaa Ranade

(the sacred ash i used to dip my ring finger in
and press to my forehead, throat, tongue
after bowing down to the gods,
praying for you;
the ash in the kalash—all that remained
of you—that i poured into the sea
after i cremated you.)


Mugdhaa Ranade wakes up everyday hoping to find dry leaves to crunch underfoot, and stray cats to pet. Her writing has appeared in Overheard Lit, Bending Genres, American Literary Review, and more. She can be found in person in Mumbai, India, and online on Twitter @swxchhxnd.

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