Editorial – Summer 2026

Tasavvur’s invitation to guest edit their summer issue came at a time when my perception of reality was being unmoored. An incidence that felt like a success gnarled into something else, then something else again that wasn’t a failure, but a stranger third thing. An offer that had felt sacrosanct and straightforward at the time, slipped cleanly out of my grasp, the offerer having disappeared altogether. Another time, I was made to know of a great honor, while I was simultaneously being gaslit for an insignificance. My reality cleaved itself into two sharp halves, each half further cleaving into its own halves, and on and on it went. 

This is how I landed on the loose theme for this issue—“perception”—as I found myself in circumstances that were wobbly, pulsing within my reach. And it is through this burnished lens that I present the incredible stories of this issue to you. Without further ado,

In “Work meeting, Tuesday night, humid rains, traffic in front of the Sheraton” by Sayrat Salekin, alias Kencho, fall face-first into a surreal shaft of beauty, horror, and transgression relayed through a narrative that moves through prose and poetry with masterful subjectivity and intention. 

Set in Telangana, South India, Nivara Lune weaves a gorgeous, uncanny tapestry of grief in “Bond Set Before It Is Seen,” suffused with the warp and heft of ancestral responsibility, longing, and familial ties. 

“Moonwife” by Rukman Ragas is a quiet scream that rends a known myth. A love that sours itself into poison, the gods and their capricious games, and the fickle moon with her unbearable beauty swirl together over an epic tale of horror-laced perseverance, revenge, and heartbreak. 

Ayida Shonibar’s “In Their Nature” constructs a beautiful anti-fable by dismantling our understanding of a familiar tale involving a frog and a scorpion. From section to section, Shonibar’s lyrical narrative deftly leads us through multiple points of view, until our deeply-held assumptions fragment themselves. 

For nonfiction, the essay “Gods, Demons, Monsters, Witches: A Decade of South Asian Speculative Cinema” by Drishya maps South Asian speculative cinema from the last decade. From examining the pre-history of South Asian speculative films to locating it within current socioreligious and political milieus, Drishya’s piece is incredibly timely, well-researched, and makes for essential reading. 

As I found myself adrift during a time when my own reality felt indistinct, it has been a privilege and an honor to read these pieces, to be moved and shocked and awed alike by their beauty and inventiveness. It is a greater privilege and an honor to be entrusted with them—to guest-edit this issue, and I hope you love these stories as much as I loved putting them together.

With love,

M. L. Krishnan.