by Azhar Wani Ralph Mayhew Q: What is your fiction? Tell us about your stripes. A: This was before you knew me: I was exiled from the Sundarbans. Behind each mangrove, my amber eyes still flicker underwater, craft fear under god’s air. I hung around the river at first. Brilliant conversationalist, she began reading the oracle on my stripes. Before she could translate from fur to roar, the sea caught us off guard at coast. No chance around that bully. I turned back, walked ups