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.
My father reasoned that he had grown up in a poor land that had been plundered by the colonial powers and he was not going to give away another national treasure
Shimu and Tushar had grown up together on an alley in the Mirpur area of Dhaka city. Their neighbouring houses were separated only by a brick wall, about two meters high. The branches of a tree growing beside Tushar’s house overhung the wall, its foliage shading a part of Shimu’s courtyard.
The beast bellowed below Mushfiq’s bedroom window, propelling rushes of tingles within him. He smiled.
Jhumpa Lahiri has always been the rare author whose prowess in the art of the short-story far surpassed her novelistic talents.
Some of these works have inspected the complex lives of modern Bangalis while some have traced the contours of our past often not examined. Here’s your chance to read some of the releases of this year by Bangladeshi authors, if you haven’t read them yet.
The slamming of the front door sounded an ominous note, warning of trouble to come.
I’m not sure when I first realised that we’d met before. In the beginning, you were just the elderly man I often noticed pottering around our communal rooftop.
Today, I am covered in lines. Rust from the rain, and the occasional overflowing water from the drain paint my feet in unchangeable colours.
What I loved most as a reader about her is that her strength was not displayed in the conventional ways that most fantasy books tend to use to depict a powerful woman.
He had been practising saying his name out loud every night before going to sleep so that his ears remained accustomed to hearing his own name
