I am from the 19 houses in 15 districts, none of which could become "my home, sweet home"  

The motor car is always a thing of darkness, In the sun and lighted roads of day And in the luminous gas at night though 

I found a gold pendant which I decided to keep. I wore it around my neck and looked in the mirror. Did my mother ever wear this pendant?

I frolic and burrow myself inside the vastness of the fields And the prairies that stand tall Of spaces heavily concentrated, and then stretched out to infinity

The hurt remained beneath my skin like an unwritten revelation—never acknowledged, never tended to;

It has been more than a few weeks since I arrived in London for my Master’s, and I still miss my friends, family, and acquaintances back home.

Suddenly, a giant shadow covered up the ground beneath their feet. When she looked up, she couldn’t see the face of the figure until it came closer and sat on the edge of the branch they were sitting on.

Sentiments are best preserved for people who can pay for extra baggage.

Clouds in heaven bow and billow around your feet, and you- glide through, oblivious to their ethereal presence.

The theocracy is crumbling in its seat

I am asked where I am headed. The expression in the lady’s eyes suggests this is not the first time I was asked the question. I stand there, wondering if the pits around her eyes—white as the sun—are caused by the likes of me, and I tell her where I’m headed.

Nothing is meaningless if speech and silence  fill void, flowing in the same force, and no one blocks the road to dreaming.

“Overhyped books are the empty calories of the literary world.”

I tried to be renamed in the middle  But my van and I have never been apart!

I see you, with whatever half awake, sleep drifting irises, I see you. Dusted in the shelves of unread books, I see you and I know you, They will never know you but I do, in ways you are afraid.

You were chosen because of your heart. Because of the incredible love you carry, despite the cruelty of this hungry city. Because of the strength you have, forged by the trials and tribulations of Dhaka.

Shiraj’s only consolation was that he was almost at the end of the line. Just the couple in front of him, and then he would finally be free. Otherwise, he was fuming. Someone had picked his pocket.

“Listen, I have a plan but you have to say yes,” said Naya as her eyes traced Noorie’s computer screen, checking to see if she finished typing the rest of the sentence. With a last click on the full stop, Noorie bent backward to see Naya’s face gleaming.

How writers and their consciousness evolve in a country is largely dependent on that society’s intellectual development, their freedom of expression, and if their intellectual development is encouraged or discouraged.

The girl stared back at her and asked a question that made Mrittika’s heart beat faster. “Don’t you recognise me?”