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The DM’s bungalow was grand, but it no longer felt like a house. It had turned into a refuge, a place where fear and hope coexisted uneasily. The once-polished floors were now covered with hastily spread-out mats, where families huddled together in small clusters. The grand dining hall, where dignitaries once sat for elaborate meals, …
At 4 AM, the doorbell rang. A sharp, urgent sound that cut through the heavy silence of the night. Mrs. Ghosh sat up with a start, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Who could it be at this hour? She hesitated, gripping the edge of her saree, her mind racing through possibilities. The riots… the …
The day began with an unsettling quietness, a silence so heavy it felt like the air itself was holding its breath. A tension, a heaviness, like the sky before a storm. Mr. Ghosh had left early in the morning for Bhubaneswar due to some urgent work. Meena was helping her mother fold freshly washed clothes …
It had been a week since the Tripathis had made their decision: they would move to the U.S once Kasturi's school session ended. Mr. Tripathi’s excitement was palpable—his brother had everything arranged, and this felt like the break he had been waiting for. Kasturi’s mother had begun making lists of what to pack and what …
For Meena and Kasturi, friendship didn’t need grand declarations or extravagant gestures. It thrived in the small, unassuming joys of life, like sharing meals that felt like warm hugs. Sundays became Meena’s secret rebellion against routine. She would tiptoe out of the house, pretending to go play, but her destination was always the same: Kasturi’s …
The thing about Khurda Road was that it wasn’t just a place—it was a living, breathing entity with a personality of its own. The streets were narrow, shaded by towering palm trees, and the houses that were identical in design but distinct in spirit. They stood like nosy relatives, always up in each other’s business. …
Moving into a new neighborhood wasn’t easy, especially for Meena. She missed her school friends, the familiar rhythm of Kolkata’s streets, and even the annoying sound of the fish vendor yelling under their old window every morning. Khurda Road felt quieter, slower, and, most of all, unfamiliar. Her first day exploring the neighborhood was more …
The day the Ghosh family officially moved into their Khurda Road house, it was anything but smooth. With its red-tiled roof and a mango tree swaying in the front yard, the house seemed to breathe with an old-world charm, as if it had stories to tell. Inside, chaos reigned. Boxes lay half-open, furniture sat awkwardly …
The story dates back to 1970, when India was a strange mix of unity and division. The rich diversity of cultures and languages made the country so unique. But on the other hand, there were these silent but strong walls between different communities. One of those divides was between Bengalis and Oriyas. Now, to outsiders, …
Continue reading "The Song Of our Bond- Part 1: A Tale of Two Worlds"
At first glance, 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' by Gabriel García Márquez can feel overwhelming—a labyrinth of names, magical happenings, and sprawling generations. When I began reading it, I couldn’t progress in one go. The story felt dense, the characters tangled, and the slow pace. I had to take a break, let the words settle. …
Continue reading "Book Review: One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez"
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