DU. How those letters conjure up a sense of awe and bittersweet memory. Always in the vanguard of political, progressive

I swear by my mother's milk: I swear in the name of metals and minerals, in the name of coffee and coco, in the name of land and labor, that an emergency-poem like this one needs ample prose and even crude mathematical proofs.

It is a bright Sunday morning in spring. Most of the Boulderites are enjoying the outdoors. The curious sunbeams peek through the kitchen window to greet a slim girl with curly hair. Her name is Geeta Kulkarni. She is busily working on her dishes.

Fuller Road, the short and winding road in the middle of the University of Dhaka campus, is quite legendary, not only as far as the

He calculated the distance, the people between them, and kicked the football with perfect precision at her – that haughty one – gliding

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, a little girl got her hands on a book, a book about siblings, of living in the countryside, and going on adventures—a book that would later give way to other books on more adventures and misadventures, turning the little child into an adult who constantly daydreams of taking off to some faraway land.

the fragment is all that survived…

From Paradise gazing, we saw green on your face

Towering evergreen trees, thick clumps of fern and gorgeous waterfalls—yes, we are talking about Schwarzwald or

The rusted bogies were scattered like confetti at the path's end. Mounds of bricks and sand, abandoned boxes, stray

Perhaps it is time one should write on the real idea behind a private university and prove that Newman and his ideas

“This house,” said Mr Ranodhir Palchaudhuri, the owner of the colonnaded 19th century Neel Kuthi at Maheshgunj, “was built by a

You are the night

For a split second I was startled beyond belief. For a longer while, maybe about a minute, I must have stood still with my mouth agape

My spirit is in tatters

Boss: What is a Botox filler?

When home is broken

That Man with heavy glasses-

Since it was my fourth or fifth visit to the US, I considered myself a pro there. When I reached my cousin's home in Hicksville, Long Island on a Monday morning, she was busy preparing to leave for office.

These stories were told to John Drew by the Hungarian poets Ádám Nádasdy, translator of Shakespeare and Dante, and Győző Ferencz, Keeper of the Radnóti Archive.