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Written by Shehzar Doja
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I am a stowaway in my dreams
But i do not envy those who have traveled
Across the ocean,
For i, too, have traveled,
Across the worlds and the depths left
Unexplored in the mind.
I, too, brave the distances,
Savour the first glimpses of a new world
Discovered, yet hidden in confines,
In the world between the worlds. |
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Written by RK
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...And then she asked, "oh why oh why
From my life you can't just be through?"
Ovr'ly stubborn, insane you ain't
And who I am, you never knew;
This is not love, not even hate
With reason I could find no clue...
What good it did to your own life?
It seems you don't know what you do;
So, go back to from where you came
For I won't even talk to you"... ...And my naive vagrant unleashed
Searching for the whitest lilies
And he roamed and he roamed
For the moon, for your seas
Through the Venuses of heaven
Like the Mars from abyss
Until finally returned home
Bearing my phantom of melancholy...
Then from my once folded diaries
Fell a lonesome iris
My tongue still numbed of the tulip kisses,
When my rose meant nothing...
And my rose meant nothing... |
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Written by Jackie Kabir
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Twilight is but a few moments in space.
The hues paint the sky with a crimson glow, Like no other would do. Changing the countenance of the day, |
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Ekattur Ajonmo Prottasha-Gratitude Towards the Achievers of Freedom |
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Written by MnR
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 37 years have passed since we attained our freedom. Years that have seen our nation go through some of the best times, as well as, some of the toughest. Throughout this journey of 37 years, we have enjoyed the true essence of freedom. A nation that is free from the clutches of a dictator. An independent nation where we can speak Bengali without the fear of persecution. But somewhere along the road we forgot the people who made our independence possible.
These people have been neglected for too long. The conditions that some of our freedom fighters live in is deplorable at its best. Many of them have had to resort to begging as a final step to make ends meet. Many are still suffering from the pain inflicted by the Pakistani Soldiers. Letting these people live in such misery is a crime. |
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Written by weatherman
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Blackout takes the neighborhood at midnight. All electrical sounds silenced at once. Once the momentary confusion subsides, and the eyes and ears get accustomed to the night, the mind begins to see, feel and sense things that get tangled in the chains of conscious thoughts and superfluous perceptions of reality, obscured by day light.
First to be felt is silence. Gradually you begin to hear the gurgling of insects, the occasional name calling of house lizards, the flapping wings of little bats and the squeaking of rodents. Add to that the monotonous tingling of a wind chime in a neighboring balcony. At first they all seem random but slowly a pattern begins to emerge and soon, they all settle in the background, setting the stage for the things to come.
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Home
Monsoon Letters
Features
Preface
Monsoonletters - Issue V
Early light on the land of the rising sun (41)
Inspirations and Creative Thoughts (26)
Goodnight, Mr. Kissinger - Part 2 (33)
Goodnight, Mr. Kissinger - Part 1 (29)
Private universities: New laws and the real picture (38)
Elephant Road (50)
The Literary Encyclopedia (41)
Existence is Horror This writing is an experiment with "survival horror" fiction genre. No one knew when it all started. No one even bothers to know it anymore. The aftermath of what has...