fiction, Star Literature

KHERO KHATA / Egg drop soup

The cream colored bowl held the steaming, almost translucent yellow broth with traces of white, garnished by an array of green onions slashed in an angle.

KHERO KHATA / Fixed

The rain began at dusk, its cold fingers tracing the cracked panes of the house like an unwelcome visitor. By midnight, the storm had grown wild, wind howling through the trees, rattling the fragile bones of the dwelling. I stood before the door, my hand trembling on the tarnished brass handle.

FICTION / Pills, water, trees, and blood

Nuri had just swallowed a little orange pill dry, when she noticed that the portrait of ‘The Sexual Revolutionary’ had been taken down from the wall of her childhood bedroom.

FICTION / Sisyphus laughs: the laughter of God

At last, God heeded Sisyphus’s prayer—a plea he had been making for countless centuries. Each time, he hoisted the rock onto his shoulders, convinced that this would be the time it ascended with ease

KHERO KHATA / De mi para ti;

I see her now, but not in the way I have always seen her—through the lens of service, of duty, of roles—but as a woman whose edges were softened long before I learned her name

FICTION / At the birth of death

One sits silently. Her eyes blink sometimes. Sometimes her lips tremble a little, or they don’t tremble at all.

KHERO KHATA / The veil of shadow

He had consistently disregarded the villagers' accounts of bhoot-prets as local folklore. To him, they were just stories to scare the gullible

KHERO KHATA / Mother saves her corpses before lunch

Mother woke before sunrise with the weight of the house pulling at her bones and moved against the cold floor, the chill biting at her ankles. In the corner hung the gutted rabbit, its blood pooling on the floor. Her fingers trembled, as she bathed herself in it, coating her skin red.

KHERO KHATA / Bangali ghosts vie for the fishes

That night, the wind howled like the wolves as Shyam and Alameen rowed silently, their boat traversing through the misty air and the water rippling gently beneath them.

February 1, 2025
February 1, 2025

Fixed

The rain began at dusk, its cold fingers tracing the cracked panes of the house like an unwelcome visitor. By midnight, the storm had grown wild, wind howling through the trees, rattling the fragile bones of the dwelling. I stood before the door, my hand trembling on the tarnished brass handle.

February 1, 2025
February 1, 2025

Egg drop soup

The cream colored bowl held the steaming, almost translucent yellow broth with traces of white, garnished by an array of green onions slashed in an angle.

January 11, 2025
January 11, 2025

Pills, water, trees, and blood

Nuri had just swallowed a little orange pill dry, when she noticed that the portrait of ‘The Sexual Revolutionary’ had been taken down from the wall of her childhood bedroom.

January 4, 2025
January 4, 2025

De mi para ti;

I see her now, but not in the way I have always seen her—through the lens of service, of duty, of roles—but as a woman whose edges were softened long before I learned her name

January 4, 2025
January 4, 2025

Sisyphus laughs: the laughter of God

At last, God heeded Sisyphus’s prayer—a plea he had been making for countless centuries. Each time, he hoisted the rock onto his shoulders, convinced that this would be the time it ascended with ease

November 23, 2024
November 23, 2024

At the birth of death

One sits silently. Her eyes blink sometimes. Sometimes her lips tremble a little, or they don’t tremble at all.

October 28, 2024
October 28, 2024

The veil of shadow

He had consistently disregarded the villagers' accounts of bhoot-prets as local folklore. To him, they were just stories to scare the gullible

October 26, 2024
October 26, 2024

Bangali ghosts vie for the fishes

That night, the wind howled like the wolves as Shyam and Alameen rowed silently, their boat traversing through the misty air and the water rippling gently beneath them.

October 26, 2024
October 26, 2024

Mother saves her corpses before lunch

Mother woke before sunrise with the weight of the house pulling at her bones and moved against the cold floor, the chill biting at her ankles. In the corner hung the gutted rabbit, its blood pooling on the floor. Her fingers trembled, as she bathed herself in it, coating her skin red.

September 14, 2024
September 14, 2024

Residence

I plead but I know there is nothing I can do. Akbar, in a rare fit of courage, tries to intervene. But the old man does not budge. Maybe he knows about Mina and me.