Virginia Woolf’s use of the metaphor, “Angel in the House” was a contemporary response to the......

I don’t like red, the mushy insides of a watermelon, Palash, Modar, thread-work on a Gamusa......

The well-groomed student Formal yellow jacket, white shirt black pants bow tie Starched white napkin over......

Gauri departs To Himavan’s Cloud realm Father’s heir In name & courage Menai now bereft of......

Silent with beings we’re meant to follow, on occasion asking a question, looking up and about......

Long drawn shadows are also children of the sun. Cast far away on a landscape faintly......

How do you kiss mouths where Words are festering deprivation? Because word upon word upon word......

Bending over clouds We are dunked, face first Into the broken arteries of Kolkata: Dissected torso......

Our dying fathers, taken inward, no longer embrace us cheek-to-cheek, but become the tongue within our......

Today, I tiptoed through the land of those awaiting death, and found on my path a......