Priyanuj Mazumdar is a writer, editor, educator, and musician from northeast India whose work has appeared in the Los Angeles Review, Allium, BULL, Harbor Review, Roi Fainéant Press, and elsewhere. Recipient of the Nadine B. Andreas Endowment for 2025-26, he was shortlisted for the Leopold Bloom Prize for Innovative Narration and featured in RUNT Magazine’s Young Creatives series. Find more on his website priyanujmazumdar.com and his socials @whoispriyanuj.
(i) you spill drinks everywhere you go like you want people to know your butterfingers can’t hold anything together. what a disaster. tablecloths dry in the sun. your stain on the family name will haunt us forever. a spill of bloody mary is one thing but a whole jar? that white shirt is a bloodbath. i wish it was your… Read more →
at the new indian restaurant downtown, they fire up the tandoor. half tablespoon pepper, one teaspoon salt. that’s it? you make a joke about shitting your pants. i laugh, say sorry, pay for our meal. can we stop by the grocery store so i can buy enough chillies to burn your cold heart? not spicy enough. my bad, i thought… Read more →