Stories, poems, novels
Ashamanja Babu’s Dog: Satyajit Ray
Ashamanja babu fulfilled a long cherished dream when he went to a friend’s house in Hashimara for a holiday. He lived in a one-and-a-half room flat on Mohinimohan Road in Bhabanipur, and worked in the registry department of the Lajpat Rai post-office. Since his workplace was a seven-minute walk from home, he didn’t have to…
Formula 16: Leela Majumdar
Although the conclusions of the extraordinary experiments conducted by Bhanu-da’s Dhon-kaka are not yet ready to be published, in consideration of the colossal mistake it would be to deprive the masses of such valuable findings, I am revealing, if not in meticulous detail, certainly to a large extent, all that happened. Needless to add, all…
Eight poems: Binoy Majumdar
Memories Still those age-old memories linger in my headIn youth I visited the Botanical Garden often Flowers from various countries were collected thereAnd yet fate never never held gold dust for me.All my life I have cut diamonds in different waysBy some magic those diamonds left for other people’s ringsThe flowers in the Botanical Gardens…
Amalkanti: Nirendranath Chakraborty
Amalkanti was my friend,We went to school together.He’d be late to class every day, couldn’t do his lessonsWhen told to decline verbsHe’d gaze at the window with such surprise thatWe’d feel very sorry for him. Some of us wanted to be teachers, some, doctors, some, lawyers.Amalkanti didn’t want any of this.He wanted to be the…
Let All That Be For Now: Manindra Gupta
After a million years of living together It will be decided whether you’re mine. Let all that be for now. Wild plums have ripened in the Mikir hills, Let’s go eat them. Against the sunset Unkempt rust-coloured hair Is flying like gleaming orchid roots. – Let me, let me look at your coppery face The…
Another: Tanmoy Mukherjee
Ashutosh-babu made his blunder as he was rushing to get on the tram at Ballygunge Phanri. Missing his footing, he went down in a heap. Evening crowds, the street choc-a-bloc with buses and taxis, auto-rickshaws whizzing past. As he was wondering whether his mis-step would send him under the wheels of a tram or whether…
From ‘Shardulshundori’: Sirsho Bandyopadhyay
Singapore, 1920: Curtain Call Priyanath was slowly sinking into the quicksand. The deep yellow mass of sand had the tight consistency of mud. The dense, impenetrable, yellow sludge closed in on him, entering his nostrils, his mouth. Priyanath was choking. Suddenly the deep yellow began to change colour in some places to orange. An unusual…
Fire of my reverence: Shakti Chattopadhyay
Fire of my reverence Incinerate me First, torch the two feet that can no longer move Then the hands which hold no love or order today Now icebergs of flowers in the crook of the arms No more responsibility settling on the shoulders Burn them in proximity to life Stop a moment, then destroy The…
From ‘Mahanadi’: by Anita Agnihotri
Flowing out of the Hirakud reservoir, the Mahanadi flows south for some distance, through Sambalpur and then to Suvarnapur or Sonpur, before turning eastward towards the Buddhist district, passing the hills and forests of Tikarpara and going on to Nayagadh district, and finally to the sea through the plains of Kendrapara and Jagatsinghpur, which are…
Every Sunday: Binod Ghoshal
Oooh, how scared I was at first, god! Don’t blame me, OK? Isn’t everyone a little scared on their first plane ride? When the plane suddenly left the ground and zoomed into the sky, I shrank back in fear and grabbed his hand tightly. I had taken the window seat so that I could look…
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TRANSLATIONS: ARUNAVA SINHA 