In Lakshmi’s Secret Diary, Ari Gautier crafts a dazzling, multi-layered narrative that is as whimsical as it is profound.

I know my engine is dying. I know that, by the time the next Eid rolls around, the busy little humans will have taken me apart to create something new.

When he was handing over the money to Naimuddin, their father, Kalam silently cried, holding Dholi’s neck in the yard.

The Asia regional winner of the 2025 Commonwealth Short Story Prize, Faria Basher, in an interview with The Daily Star, opens up about her journey from lifelong reader to emerging writer.

He brought the jasmine to his nose, inhaled its narcotic sweetness, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was true.

When Ullash decided to choose the cat for one of his experiments, our borobhabi, Ullash's mother, didn't raise a single objection

Ravindra's prose is brisk, smooth, and detailed, with numerous stories from traditional Nepali and Hindu folklore chipped in, adding layers as the story unfolds.

In dry, forgotten Shukhno Gram, a station master’s dull routine shifts when a runaway bride in blue arrives. Their unexpected bond, painted with longing, art, and fleeting rain, transforms solitude into a moment of magic.

Now, an automated metro-rail glides silently through the city. Conversations have become clipped, calculated. Efficiency replaces spontaneity. They call it peace. Rahim calls it absence.

Farid Shaheb earned a fair bit at the office today. These days, because of the Anti Corruption Commission and newspaper journalists’ incessant pestering, he can no longer directly take the money offered to him.

“Do you think they think about us?” Asgar muttered.

I love the texture of your hair and I wanted to tell you about it in far too many words than either you or I are comfortable with.

Beyond the celebration of Eid, this book also explores themes of love, loss, and the grief of spending a special occasion without a loved one.

I stared at the row of pre-peeled and packaged tangerines sealed tightly under plastic wrap.

You tell me stories of the sea—of its waves, of how it speaks to you in a language only you can understand—whenever you write back to me.

Rank badges, small bags, books, diaries, notebooks, files… That’s when it caught Razeen’s eye: a weathered, dusty old envelope bearing a faint, unrecognisable logo.

This is an excerpt from Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay's short story "Abhishapta", translated by Dipty Rahman

It is enough— Enough to be here, Beneath the bulb of a wonton shop.

I know of my feeble frame of its graying at the edges.

migratory animal Are you looking for a home?