Shortlisted for The Antonym February Poetry Contest Artwork by Sumona Rahman Choudhury for Sania Dar At your door it’s a message; they peek first through the window and speak all the time in hope that you understand. Quiet, it’s...
Read MoreShortlisted for The Antonym February Poetry Contest Artwork by Sumona Rahman Choudhury A sweep of solid oakwood upLike whiplash; the chargeOf a hawk or other bird-Streak in a lack of skyAt the nightly tree blackestDrapery, the...
Read MoreThen, As I Kept Going is a Bengali story by Shahaduz Zaman, translated by Noora Shamsi Bahar. Read here. The story is told by Debjani Bhaduri ...
Read MoreWinner of The Antonym February Poetry Contest Artwork by Sumona Rahman Choudhury bird of my breath uncaged, warpingits feathered ribs around a petrol night. did I ever imagine an inhale? you note – things used to be simpler,...
Read MoreWe invited poetry submission with this prompt for our February Poetry Contest: We received more than 100 submissions, thanks everyone who submitted. We really enjoyed miriad interpretations of the artwork by Sumona Rahman...
Read MoreI’d secret names for the men I went out with. Animal names. No, it’s not offensive. It’s scientific. It’s ingenious and poetic too.Don’t humans share a common ape ancestor with chimpanzees? Don’t all men display certain animal...
Read MoreCurtain Flowers Look Real In The Sun They quiver in tune with your eyelashes. In the shadows of birds on the slashes And sills, curtain flowers run amok and rife Inside your drifting gaze transfixed by their strife Against...
Read MoreThe children of the alley made clay dolls. They sat by a rubbish pile and dressed them all. Dolled them up, faceless at first. Then they gave them eyes and nose and curvy mouths. Legs and hands to dance with them at sundown. If...
Read MoreThe threesome ‘ve become twosome,I know not when or by whom;The doors through which winds of love ‘d comeHave been long closed as if swept by a broom.As the evenings descend, slowly, ever so slowly,As loneliness creeps in, much...
Read MorePhotograph – Aritra Sanyal Back then, Baba sold balloons; Ma worked as a cook in two houses. And one roadside rice stall where she peeled loads of onions and cried a lot.I used to go with Baba, making rounds in the...
Read MoreWalk in, drink up, walk out, repeat. The chit chat and shit chat get more frenzied with each stop and start as we flip flop about the city center. The moon starts telling the sun to fuck off and we become more and more like...
Read MoreAria Nothing is so beautiful as the groundof being. And though the possible toois beautiful, for it is the engine of desire, nothingis so beautiful as the real, like unexpected flowerson the doorstep: fragrant, fragile, marked...
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Personally , I am an admirer of the Translator 😍. I usually go through her writings . This is also…
Personally I am an admirer of the Translator, I usually prefer to go through her writings . She is an…
Such a simple yet powerful expression of the wrongdoings that occurs in domestic sectors. Absolutely loved the story.
Can you please cite the original poem ? Where to find it in Bangla?
Such a wonderful work ma'am ❤️ I loved it
Just a wonderful work Ma'am....I loved it❤️