Khero Khata
FICTION / 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
FICTION / Trapped in the bite
I woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth
FICTION / 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.
FICTION / 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.
POETRY / The ghost of Arun Das
Raise no alarm, if on a night dimly lit,
FLASH FICTION / The floodlights
Chaos. More chaos.
FLASH FICTION / Dual faces of an unseen predator
In a world spun from the threads of chaos, we are born into a tapestry of shadows. We are shimmering maidens in the night, nurturing within us a fire both subtle and strong. Yet, the air around us is heavy with whispers–danger and desire intertwined.
POETRY / Survival tactics for “peaceful” protests
Stay in a group, never in alleyways
POETRY / A man walks into a bar
a man walks into a bar but he looks like a little boy
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
Trapped in the bite
I woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth
The ghost of Arun Das
Raise no alarm, if on a night dimly lit,
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.
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.
Survival tactics for “peaceful” protests
Stay in a group, never in alleyways
Dual faces of an unseen predator
In a world spun from the threads of chaos, we are born into a tapestry of shadows. We are shimmering maidens in the night, nurturing within us a fire both subtle and strong. Yet, the air around us is heavy with whispers–danger and desire intertwined.
The floodlights
Chaos. More chaos.
Bulbul pakhi
“Attention passengers. The next train arriving is a B train traveling westbound towards Boston College. Please stand clear of the closing doors."
A man walks into a bar
a man walks into a bar but he looks like a little boy