Winter of 1990 Cox’s Bazaar, Bangladesh Serenity is almost tangible at twilight. Regardless of the ruckus all throughout the day, it seems that precisely at the points when the sun ascends and descends the horizon, all of life stops a moment to watch the giant orb pass its solitary journey. Life seems to slow down …
Fit of Pique
অভিমানের খেয়া by Rudra Muhamman Shahidullah এতোদিন কিছু একা থেকে শুধু খেলেছি একাই পরাজিত প্রেম তনুর তিমিরে হেনেছে আঘাত পারিজাতহীন কঠিন পাথরে প্রাপ্য পাইনি করাল দুপুরে, নির্মম ক্লেদে মাথা রেখে রাত কেটেছে প্রহর বেলা_ এই খেলা আর কতোকাল আর কতোটা জীবন! কিছুটা তো চাই- হোক ভুল হোক মিথ্যে প্রবোধ, অভিলাষী মন চন্দ্রে না পাক, জ্যোৎস্নায় …
Nigeria’s Chinua Achebe Remembered as ‘Trailblazer’ for African Literature
Nigeria’s Chinua Achebe Remembered as ‘Trailblazer’ for African Literature
Jamal Ahmed
by Nadee Naboneeta Imran (link http://www.newagebd.com/supliment.php?sid=188&id=1393 ) As morning shows the day, artist Jamal Ahmed’s childhood knack and activities showed that one day he would be known through his works of art. Born and raised in Dhaka, Ahmed was never much interested in studies and his family could well understand his love for art. His …
Ektara
I have six fingers on the six strings. Devastated, numb and trembling fingers are grasping for a rhythm, for a pace, but the strings are in mistuned race. Everyone is singing around, and they have a sly gaze on my fingers, urging for a tune, for a tone of divinity, but the fingers are static …
Abstract
The Regretful Ending
by Sarah Soha Splashes of pink, blue, violet painting the heavens Fluffy cottons illuminate, demonstrating the supremacy of the sun. It was time No more u turns Had come too far. Taking a deep breath, I closed my lifeless eyes Flashback of some memories Some colorful; mostly black and whites My eyes no longer holding …
Smile of a Poet’s Wife She sobs at the kitchen
She entered my life with reluctant footsteps but my grin never transformed; She is a blessing, my homemaker, to my otherwise void boat. She sobs at the kitchen yet gloom doesn’t seep into the spice of lamb curry that lies stale on the table surrounded by hungry, empty chairs. when she sobs in the balcony, …
Story of an Afternoon slight slouch of her shoulders
She was crouched over the rug rubbing away at a spot of ash flicked carelessly. The slight slouch of her shoulders when she walks appears as if she is offering herself in surrender. Now, as the burdened shoulders worked mechanically and somewhat in defiant determination, she looked more vulnerable. Satisfied with the near-perfect success she …
Lesson
by Shampad Rahmatullah You cannot say we have not lived, For we have braved the fires of our own. You cannot say we know not loss, For what have we gained if not loss’s trust? Have we not stared Death in its eyes? Hoping against hope we do not blink? Have we not shed tears …
