reader submission
POETRY / Ghostly tenants
My father speaks in a dismantled language that goes up in smoke.
POETRY / The song of freedom
the bullet hole/ in my brother's chest/ unfolds like a pandora's box
POETRY / Wonder
I feel my rage, ma, a living thing;/ A beast, caged, like me
POETRY / The things I wish I had never known
I skip talking to myself for hours / The “me time”, before going to bed
FICTION / Wings Across A City Wall
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.
POETRY / My scarlet incarnation
Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook
Poetry / Bombardment
What’s life if a sense of darkness/ doesn’t connect night to sunlight
Poetry / Silent screams
Let us raise our voices, let us be heard, / Justice for the dead, let their voices be stirred
Poetry / Prompts
The pavements are hotter in winter, the rain never wets the asphalt and I never tell you to do anything else other than “be”.
The man, the rat and the room
It began with a faint sound of walls being scratched. Initially, the man believed it to be the normal sounds of an old home settling during the middle of the night.
Placing Places
Someday, I will write about those places, the cities, monuments, and faces.
Fail better: A new year’s resolution
But I understand. I am part of a historic pattern. So not everything is personal. I can't help but fall into some of the traps and become prey to some of the vultures.