The night after the story got published, Jamal stormed to my home at around 11 PM, drenched in the rain. That was the first and only time Jamal raised his voice against me
"That’s why I have jars of jealousy, anger, sadness, monotony, but this – it’s important."
I will not even begin with the skies
One sits silently. Her eyes blink sometimes. Sometimes her lips tremble a little, or they don’t tremble at all.
Behind the bangles that jingle ominously in the dark, there is a voice—a voice that has long been silenced
“Residents usually get 30 days of observation period,” said the man at the reception, “but since it’s a leap year, you get an extra day.
Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save.
After many years, Ira has returned to my town. She hops four towns to get here. We are supposed to meet today. I’ve been ready since morning. We will meet by the lakeside.
She frantically whisper-screamed at him, “Stop yelling! And this is serious Fayaz, we need to find that box.
'The car' is one of the winning entries of DS Books and Star Literature's Halloween themed writing contest "Spook-Off". One winning 100-word flash fiction or a two-line horror story will be published each day of the week all the way till Halloween.
'Last visit' is one of the winning entries of DS Books and Star Literature's Halloween themed writing contest "Spook-Off". One winning 100-word flash fiction or a two-line horror story will be published each day of the week all the way till Halloween.
'Midnight visitor' is one of the winning entries of DS Books and Star Literature's Halloween themed writing contest "Spook-Off". One winning 100-word flash fiction or a two-line horror story will be published each day of the week all the way till Halloween.
An uncomfortable stillness emanated in the air around Rajpath road. I stood there with my suitcase in my hand, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge. Glancing left then right, I crossed the road and entered the premises of Hotel Kaalipara.
It was another early sunset on a rainy day in Dhaka. Alamin was walking with a polythene bag of groceries back to his small, rented apartment.
As she looked up, Rukhsana noticed her eyeballs missing.
I think it was closer tonight. I really did not want it inside the lift.
For a wistful moment, he was born to me. Eyes closed and never to open.
Back at home, food used to narrate stories. Here, food does not travel far to the nooks and crannies of Velutha’s heart; it only reaches his stomach well enough to leave him looking healthy and strong.
You Are a Rickshawallah
