Abdullah Rayhan

The pleasing melancholia of Friday morning hovers through the window as a heavy gloom and sways within the fake plastic daisies lying on Marium’s table while the smell of burning spices filled her entire house. Marium’s mother couldn’t care less about the condition of the kitchen now. Her husband has just collapsed to the floor.  

There's something more to it that trammeled his existence, and he wanted to escape the suffocation.

The dance of the tongue is just as beautiful as the word itself. Effulgent wind, effulgent rain of twilight moon, effulgent sky.

The difficulty of translation is one of the reasons why Nazrul is not discussed as extensively as Tagore in the west.

Dickinson shows that mellifluousness of language is what gives a heightened attribute to the essence of a poesy.

Remembering Camus on his 109th birthday.

At the first roar of the clouds, Selim opened his eyes, bloodshot, drowsy and warm like a smoking candle. He stared deep into the abyss swirling before him. In his ears, the moans of the distant sky rang damply, as if the sound came from beneath a heavy blanket.

Drowned paddy fields look beautiful throughout the day. In the morning, when there is a rough wind, the flooded rice plants dance in the reflection of drenched sunlight.

A damp siren screamed at the rushing wind. Black and thick smoky clouds slowly clotted in a grey sky, as if preparing for some kind of a ritual.

Listening to summer breeze, smelling the raw pages of an old book my mind went wandering into the sea of nonexistent dreams. I drifted there like a lost sailor. And I hunted for a thousand-year old pale blue star.

A black serene path leading to a universe set at the end of a never-ending horizon. Paces and paces of thousand footsteps sounding like the ticking of a wall clock in the middle of the night. Tik…tik...tik…tik…tik…tik

They have given me a grilled piece of chicken and a naan with the face of moon on a plate. The grilled chicken leg is brown with sides turned to dark coal. Grains of burnt spices glaze the piece.

There was a faint sound of an old dog crying somewhere. It was as if a blind man was trying to play an ancient untuned violin. Its shrieks turned Rubi’s blood cold. She almost fell asleep but woke up at the howling sound.

The empty lane of the cemetery was lit by the ancient stars flickering above. The wind had leaves dancing on their branches. It was a

The blue sparrow is about to fly away; it flaps its wings. I stare deep into its eyes in a rush and whispered, “Take me with you, please.”It accepts my request. Under its wings the blue sparrow takes me in, my sin, my soul and all of my unfulfilled aspirations.

After a long day of work, Selim was returning home, tired and disgruntled by the unalterable toils of his life. He longed to reach home, take a lengthy shower, have a good meal and sleep like a log for the next seven hours.

Maybe it was a feeling of triumph that I felt on my way to the bus stand. A sensation of joy took me over and made me forget about

Darkness had fallen upon the graveyard of thousand lives, along with a cold breeze which swept away the rotten stench of dead flesh.