We'll put up feigned politicians / And their fake promises instead
What if our Eid table had a few extra chairs reserved not for guests from our world but from that of the books we’ve loved throughout our life?
In Gaza, the names of the martyrs slip through silence, lost to a world too distracted to listen
Being a Dhakaite, your Eids in childhood were spent in mournful longings for something to happen.
S.K. Ali and Aisha Saeed (eds.)Amulet Books, 2020
On the evening of February 10 the curtain fell for the last time on a performance that, over the preceding days, had cast an enchanting spell upon its audience.
Mohsin would burst into laughter, saying, "Justice for rape? Is that even a crime worthy of justice?" Rabeya, laughing alongside him, would add, "People expect justice for rape these days? I'm speechless at their naïveté!"
This International Women’s Day, Star Books and Literature brings to you a list of five books that delve into the history of feminist movements and feminist resistance.
face to face, 20 taka in my pocket and this keyless map do you think love ever ends?
The rain began at dusk, its cold fingers tracing the cracked panes of the house like an unwelcome visitor. By midnight, the storm had grown wild, wind howling through the trees, rattling the fragile bones of the dwelling. I stood before the door, my hand trembling on the tarnished brass handle.
The cream colored bowl held the steaming, almost translucent yellow broth with traces of white, garnished by an array of green onions slashed in an angle.
When moon fades into dawn and when I pass away with it / Will you think of all that I was?
This is an excerpt from Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay's short story "Abhishapta", translated by Dipty Rahman
I jump from ship to ship, / fly dangling from the claws of a huge bird in the sky / till my toes scrape mountain-tips.
Where there's no scent of mother, but only a sweet sense of comfort in the touch I remember the warmth of my mother's lap
It was actually a bit of a relief to sit on the terrace of the Gezira Pension and have a quiet breakfast before plunging back once more into the traffic of Cairo in search of a carriage to the museum.
It’s been so long since we last spoke that I don’t think I can talk to you without confessing something. There you were, standing before me
