FLASH FICTION / Chand raat at Mohakhali

Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain (1880–1932) was exceptional in many different ways. Born on December 9, 1880, in a sleepy village in Rangpur, undivided Bengal, she died on the same day, 52 years later,

“They should not do anything, excuse me; they are fit for nothing.”

Every recommendation on this list is specifically aimed at allaying the common psychological ailments of childhood.

What do we make of the mysterious thread that connects these stories not by genre, but by an imagination so wondrous they leave room for an underlying horror, and the many things that can mean?

Overnight, the saffron summer afternoons and evenings of dreamy stargazing tumble into a tale of grief, guilt, and pain.

This book is an incredibly informative and well-researched introductory book for understanding the construction of Islamophobia in the West and its impacts on Muslims across the globe.

Oh that angelic call, yet I cannot respond. I cannot open my mouth in fear of the burning pain overpowering my senses.

Talespeople presents The Screaming Shorts, partnered with Daily Star Books and Star Literature.

Baldwin was sitting right beside, smoking, killing time, thinking of love and loneliness, friendships and misfortunes. Of Martin and Malcolm.

Talespeople presents The Screaming Shorts, partnered with Daily Star Books and Star Literature

After my death, Nana sent a notice of eviction to all the tenants.

The dumpster diver and the plastic smoker raised their fists. I was in the solemn, trapped

Dad, do you know how to build a rocket? Seems, you do not. You know nothing. You are good for nothing.

Review of 'The Running Grave' (Sphere, 2023) by Robert Galbraith

On a chilly winter morning of November 2010, I came across a story that would stamp my childhood permanently. It was the winter vacation and the school finals were just over. While playing board games at one of my friend’s, I found quite a picturesque book filled with illustrations and art. It was titled, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876).

Addison Square is one of those hidden enclaves where well-heeled Londoners tuck themselves away to create bubbles of “civilised life” from which they can exclude the riffraff surrounding them in the mega-city they call home.

On Saturday, February 15, 2003, I was part of a 15-coach convoy from Portsmouth to London, UK.

Whether it was in the past or in the present, Jo March instilled herself in every woman. 

When millions of lives are at stake and indiscriminate violations of human rights are perpetuated, there is no longer space to entertain the debate on whether the art should be separated from the artist

Ratan Da walked away, waddling the way he came from, whispering, “Don’t let it go to waste, don’t let it go to waste.”