Thirty minutes to midnight And he approached me, steadily with tired bare feet, Spotlighted by the full moon; He was wearing a white shirt, Top two buttons missing, Unwashed for at least a month or so, Fashionably knee-cut faded jeans, However, the cuts resemble Years of capitalist abuse; His eyes were intriguing, With his iris …
In 1943, Shilpacharya Zainul Abedin drew a series of sketches on the man-made famine that had spread throughout Bengal, killing hundreds of thousands of people. Done in Chinese ink and brush on cheap packing paper, the series, famously known as Famine Sketches, were haunting images of cruelty and depravity of the merchants of death, and …
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Where are the men?’ I asked her. ‘In their proper places, where they ought to be… We shut our men indoors.’ Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s seminal science fiction short story ‘Sultana’s Dream’ depicted a feminist utopia, and was one of the first fictional works in India to do so. However, it never really received the fame and recognition that …
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RED COMETThe Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia PlathBy Heather Clark What becomes a legend most? As suggested by the old black-and-white Blackglama fur ads, featuring Lena Horne, Diana Vreeland and Cher, among others, legends are people who have soared beyond fame or celebrity into a more rarefied, inaccessible stratosphere. Today’s media-fixated, Kardashian-dominated world …
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শুক্লা পক্ষের পঞ্চমীর চাঁদটিকে কালো মেঘ যখন গ্রাস করেছিল , অজন্তা বিলের ধবল বকটি তখন শেষ শিকারে মত্ত ছিল । সূর্য নাটরঙ্গ ছেড়ে বিদায় নিল পর্দার আড়ালে, বড় ক্লান্ত সে আজ – তৈরি হতে হবে তাকে নতুন পালায় অভিনয় এর জন্য ।তবে তার সান্ত্বনা ছিল ; অন্য দিনের , অন্য ভোরের কাছে …। তাই তার পতনে দম্ভ ছিল , ছিল …
(I) An extended night is so far awayAnd under the woods on a stormy nightWith mouths of headache and lace of kicks around the headHe sees nothing but the dripping starry night all overWhile the dog barks at the top of its lungsSolace is some strokes without an aimWhich would be a dime then penny, …
ফ্লাডলাইটের আলো পেছনে ও মাথার উপরে যেখানটায় আমি বসে আছি আমার পাবলিক চেয়ারে।ধীরে ধীরে অন্ধকার হয়ে আসা লনটাও এখন আলোকিত। লাইব্রেরির জানালাগুলো তাকিয়ে আছে। আমি একা এই ভিড়ের মাঝে- এ প্লুরিবাস প্লুর্স। পরিবার থেকে অনেক দূরে, তাদের কথা স্মরণে আসে।আমি প্রায়ই বলতে যাচ্ছিলাম আমি নিঃসঙ্গ, কিন্তু নিঃসঙ্গতা, আমার মনে পড়ে, আরও খারাপ কিছু এর …
The bed is clean again; sheets folded, pillows void of imprints. No one sleeps. Now hours are spent standing by the window and no longer by the phone. I’m waiting to disappear—waiting for nothing. This window is my swear jar, I toss a coin in every time I speak a word. Look around and look …
They found Jimmy Hoffa,Halfway around the world, in Bangladesh;White saviour dispatched to stop aProud civilisation from becoming a mess.Magically reappeared, off to his address –He was put in a CNG, or on a bus,Maybe on a truck loaded with fish?At least he was not sleeping with them!Not enough formalin in all of BangladeshTo bring a …
A heavy lower jawand a burning heart has convincedyou you’re a dragonFree to lift up my roofa hundred feet and light it intoa bright red cloudFrom which soot,black as intent,falls with a little bit of abandon and a littlebit of indecision.The floor is revolting likethe sky—they have each otherwhy need I be sorry?When you moved …
