By Binay Majumdar
I told Mona—Hey Mona, do you know Leonardo Da Vinci was born in a village near Akuli Hills in Italy? He painted the Mona Lisa. You are a Mona; and even she is a Mona! This Leonardo was an engineer and a mathematician too. His hand-painted pictures of helicopters are still there.
By Nishi Pulugurtha
Khirer Putul tells the tale of a King who had two queens – the suffering, ignored elder Duorani who lives in poverty and neglect and the pampered younger Suorani, the king’s favourite.
By Wani Nazir
It has been said that a creative writer is like a monotheist who has to please one God, while on the other hand, a translator is like a polytheist who has to please umpteen gods. However, the fact remains that Lopamudra Banerjee displays the devotion that can cajole a hundred thousand gods (readers) to make her immortal.
By Shankha Ghosh
It was Dwadashi, the Twelfth Day of Durga Puja. Today Neelu and others would leave. Since morning, he was lying down quietly in the attic. Something so terrible had happened yesterday and still no one could figure it out. People were silent in the house.
By Sowmya Dechamma
For a moment, I imagined medieval royals enjoying a pleasant sunny day. It was sunny and I let the sun fall on my back. I could hear a bird – loud and shrill, and tried unsuccessfully to spot it. As I listened it became louder and shriller, shutting out all other sounds of insects and birds. It took me some effort to focus my ears onto the other sounds.
By Rabindranath Tagore
This morning, the sun is beaming from time to time, a wind is blowing swiftly, tamarisk and lychee trees are sashaying and rustling in a sway, a variety of birds are calling out in as many different ways to enliven the forest’s morning assembly. Sitting in this large, companion-less bright and open second-floor room, I am delighted to see a row of boats on the canal and, across it, a village flanked by trees on both sides.