The current editorial board took over the reins of Plot Number Two when the journal was just one-edition old. Since Plot Number Two was a new journal, we had endless opportunities. We were going to break boundaries and challenge stereotypes; find new voices and expose them to the world; smash binaries and bring about a revolution. While the newness of the journal gave us freedom to mould it as we liked, there was one small disadvantage—no one knew what a ‘Plot Number Two’ was, and nobody cared.
Deadlines were then pushed and an outreach team formed. We released a specially curated edition, Glimpse, while we waited for submissions. It took time, but eventually we got a phenomenal response. We found pieces that correspond with the journal’s ethos. These pieces engage with their surroundings—they struggle with language in some places, and converse with their setting in others.
First, we have Nebiyat Seifedin’s poem ‘She is Just Like…’, which dabbles in the elusive while staying firmly grounded in the soil of its setting. Rooted in the East yet comfortable with the West, Kamana Singh narrates the experience of living in a baffling binary of a world with her poem, ‘East, West’. Amelia David opens the door of nostalgia in ‘Grandmother’ and recounts how her Ammachi ties her back to a land that never really felt her own.
‘Kali’, by Teza M. George, pushes us to think about how the stories we encounter can come to life. Ariadne Wolf, in her piece ‘I only Loved You when I was a Fever’, wrestles with the idea of idea of belonging itself—whether to a place or a people. Abigail Martinez struggles with an alien tongue in ‘El Terror De Inglés’, while Sabah Merchant questions the mother tongue in ‘Kannadaphobia’. In ‘Canopy in the Sky’, Fengkha Daimary asks if words can ever capture the essence of a place. Finally, Vibha Balaji’s ‘Cracks in Dry Soil’ deals with grief, or the absence of it.
Trees can’t move away. They may want to be carried away by the wind, but they can’t leave, so they sway and dance instead. And that is what the pieces in our second edition do—they struggle with their roots, but they don’t leave them behind. From here emerges our much awaited (and much delayed) edition: Trees Dance.