4h ago| Star Literature

On Literary Matters: The Diversity of Writing

. In its fourth session of Literary Matters, the discussion focused on the diversity of writing. The guest speakers were Shagufta Sharmeen Tania, the acclaimed British-Bangladeshi writer and Rahad Abir, another up and coming writer currently residing in the US.

1d ago| Star Literature

The Hangings at Victoria Park

Dhaka, 1857          

1d ago| Star Literature


At the first roar of the clouds, Selim opened his eyes, bloodshot, drowsy and warm like a smoking candle. He stared deep into the abyss swirling before him. In his ears, the moans of the distant sky rang damply, as if the sound came from beneath a heavy blanket.

3w ago| Star Literature

The (thrilling) Art of a Serious Literary Pursuit

This is about living in a twilight world of a romance with fiction as well as non-fiction. It’s a ménage à trois that I wouldn’t ever end.

3w ago| Star Literature

Sonabhan Bibi

One year, a week before Eid-ul-Adha, my grandma, Dadi, came to Dhaka from the village and broke into tears. “What happened?” we asked.

3w ago| Star Literature

The Day I die

Poignant lines on wishful death

Warm Red

A portrayal of a complex psychology, "Warm Red" tells the story of a terribly insecure man.

When Your Mother is Sick – A hermit-crab fiction

Keep relatives at a distance, they will never visit but will always give untimely advice or spill half-true family secrets. 

Memories in a Carton

Khaki is not usually considered a cherished colour. Yet one might become attached to it, especially if it is connected to childhood memories.

The General’s Time

She woke up to milky streetlight spilled on the bed, his exposed neck in its creamy glow. The dark dip between the wings of the collar bones a misshapen waking eye. Keeping watch. She shifted the weight off her right shoulder to turn to the other side. The shoulder was pulsing a heart-beat rhythm of pain. Pain unlike the kind he had brought on a million of his people. A million pairs of hands that would swim oceans, leap mountains, brave war-zones, to switch places with her. For access to that throat. She landed softly on her left. It was time for the other shoulder to share the pain.

Next Time, Tell Me

There’s no other way but to go numb. But then the excruciating job is to make oneself un-numb.