Featured posts

সজনে ফুলের বেশ্বরী | Shojne Phooler Beshwari

শীতের চাদর সরিয়ে দরজা দিয়ে ঢুকত যে একফালি মিঠে রোদ , ঠিক গিয়ে পড়ত নাকবরাবর রাখা আমার বইয়ের টেবিলে আর ...

The heat is punishing to say the least. It’s early morning, yet the sun is at its repressive best. I toss ...

Why Grandma adores her bitters is incomprehensible to a nine year old me and an eleven year old Dada. We’ve ...

It’s as if it were yesterday. The Mayra-myari ghor (bamboo house) stands proud and tall, walls ...

Layer above layer. And then one more. Come on, a little voice goads you. And you add yet another ...

Kerala during Onam is a feast for the senses. The myth goes something like this - the magnanimous king ...

The maacher baajar in our sleepy town is nothing to write home about. A row of make-shift decrepit stalls, ...

Poached chicken, served cold. An aromatic broth. An assortment of condiments. Served with fragrant ...

The bel tree was not my favourite tree in Grandmas backyard. Well, far from it. And there was ample reason ...

The first time S returned from Singapore and narrated to me, childlike excitement stark in his voice, his ...

Grey winter takes a bow. And in hushed tiptoes arrives spring. With her mellow mornings and pleasant sun. ...

What are those ? A curious me asks Didi, pointing to the soot-blackened earthenware that she, after minutes, ...