Poem: Post-cyclone
By Moinak Dutta
So they look around
Like a stupefied lot,
Totally clueless.
Poetry: Covidiots
By Moinak Dutta
Death?
Well, we live it,
Lockdown or no lockdown,
Covid 19 or no Covid.
Short Story: Poorvi and tequila sunrise
By Moinak Dutta
A song played at the bar. ‘Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy…’ Poorvi took the shots. They were lovely. There was a slight burning feeling in her throat. But that was better, much better than all the burns she had borne within.
Football World Cup and nostalgia for olden days
By Moinak Dutta
Lack of availability of television sets did not deter us and our elder brothers in the colony from watching football. We would go to one house in the locality, where there used to be that technological marvel, a TV put in a box with shutters made of plywood. At that time, a company called Uptron sold those TVs here and some fortunate people owned them.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 