flash fiction | The Antonym

In the Meadow & Other Flash Fiction Pieces— Rongili Biswas

Sep 16, 2023 | Fiction | 1 |

FLASH FICTION BY RONGILI BISWAS In the Meadow The boy: In the meadow. Cannot take...

Two Flash Fiction Pieces— Rongili Biswas

Sep 8, 2023 | Fiction | 0 |

FLASH FICTION BY RONGILI BISWAS IN PRAISE OF AN ORNATE VASE He had my cousin’s name...

The Decision— Maitreyi Pushpa

Feb 11, 2023 | Fiction | 0 |

Translated from the Hindi by Debalina Roy Honored Maasahab, I bow down in...

Monster— Chitra Mudgal

Jan 21, 2023 | Fiction | 0 |

Translated from the Hindi by Rituparna Mukherjee He stared at his father with his eyes...

Behind The Veil & Mbaa… — Sunetra Sadhu

Nov 23, 2022 | Fiction | 2 |

Translated from the Bengali by Dr. Padmakali Kar Mbaa… If you traveled for some...

The First Kadamba Of The War & Other Stories— Romel Rahman

Nov 20, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

The First Kadamba Of The War Translated from the Bengali by Bishnupriya Chowdhuri That year the...

Spirituals— Tiziana Vigni

Oct 1, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

Self-translated from Italian by Tiziana Vigni In the dark fertile black belt of Greene County,...

The Boy— Sandipan Chattopadhyay

Sep 17, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

Translated from the Bengali by Anujata Bhattacharya Oyi, don’t you have parents?No.Both...

Under the Old Banyan Tree, We Meet – Marzia Rahman

May 15, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

Leaning against the two motorcycles, we chat for hours. Just like the old days. The masks are a sad reminder though. That life is uncertain, and a strange virus looms nearby.This is where we usually meet—in front of Charan Das’s...

The Abandoned House – Marzia Rahman

Apr 10, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

Every house has chests. Secrets folded under the stacks of silks and starched cotton. Some houses evoke fairytales. Roses and marigolds swaying in the front yard, giggling child on a swing. Some, on the other hand, look as if...

Malti – Marzia Rahman

Mar 28, 2022 | Fiction | 0 |

My name is Malti. I was named after a flower, my grandmother told me, but she couldn’t tell my birthyear. She only remembered that it was the month of Sraban, the courtyard was filled with water, and our neighbor, Lala Miah’s...

Masks and Balloons – Marzia Rahman

Mar 6, 2022 | Fiction | 1 |

Photograph – Aritra Sanyal Back then, Baba sold balloons; Ma worked as a cook in two houses. And one roadside rice stall where she peeled loads of onions and cried a lot.I used to go with Baba, making rounds in the...