Literature | The Daily Star
  • Name Me Not
    Name Me Not

    It was a crisp midday. The scorching sun sat right in the middle of...

  • EDITOR'S NOTE
    EDITOR'S NOTE

    Over the past one year, I have greatly enjoyed my role as part of...

  • The Dead
    The Dead

    The grove of Srish Poramanik was renowned for nuts. It was right by...

  • The Monster

    Lina slumped into the chair as Chameli left her room. She did not know how to tell her mother that she did not like to visit Reba

  • From the Pens of a Daily Commuter

    The scene must have caught attention of those people who tend to come and go through the Farmgate area. How old may that

  • Poetry

    “How do I make you understand,

  • A Dead Tongue

    My tongue is standing by the road

  • Fierce, Friendly Fire

    Usually, newspaper pages are dedicated to venerable people who have passed away or won an award. The occasion for today's issue is neither.

  • From Fantasia with Love

    Before I begin fan-girling over my Fairy Godfather, to quench the curious bibliophiles (like yours truly), the book I had been carrying around that day was Cornelia Funke's The Griffin's Feather!

  • A Daughter of India vs. a Son of England

    “Would not the immolation of a daughter of India and a son of England awaken India to its continued state of subjugation and England to the iniquities of its proceedings?” - Bina Das (1932).

  • The Other Half

    The inkwell is trembling

  • The Other Half

    The inkwell is trembling, There is the smooth rise and fall of memories, The hesitant fingers wrap the quill, The words come alive on paper, Is the scheme of life completeness of whole?

  • Aches and Auras

    Shaji woke up with a pounding headache. The pain started in her sleep, so she thought she was only dreaming it. In her dream, she

  • The Death of a Reader

    It was a long time ago.

  • Our Story

    Here, we stand in silence;

  • Days of Our Likes

    Lightning strikes, Thunder roars

  • The Greatest Gift

    It is a bright Sunday morning in spring. Most of the Boulderites are enjoying the outdoors. The curious sunbeams peek through the kitchen window to greet a slim girl with curly hair. Her name is Geeta Kulkarni. She is busily working on her dishes.

  • I Can Prove Mathematically

    I swear by my mother's milk: I swear in the name of metals and minerals, in the name of coffee and coco, in the name of land and labor, that an emergency-poem like this one needs ample prose and even crude mathematical proofs.

  • A View from the Ladies Common Room, Dacca University

    DU. How those letters conjure up a sense of awe and bittersweet memory. Always in the vanguard of political, progressive

  • Three Poems

    In the silence of the heart

  • A Short, Winding and Legendary Dhaka Road

    Fuller Road, the short and winding road in the middle of the University of Dhaka campus, is quite legendary, not only as far as the

  • STORY-ISH

    He calculated the distance, the people between them, and kicked the football with perfect precision at her – that haughty one – gliding

  • The Idea of a Private University

    Perhaps it is time one should write on the real idea behind a private university and prove that Newman and his ideas

  • The World's End

    The rusted bogies were scattered like confetti at the path's end. Mounds of bricks and sand, abandoned boxes, stray

  • INTO THE BLACK FOREST

    Towering evergreen trees, thick clumps of fern and gorgeous waterfalls—yes, we are talking about Schwarzwald or

  • FARAAZ

    From Paradise gazing, we saw green on your face

  • Niceland Iceland

    the fragment is all that survived…

  • GOODGE STREET STATION

    For a split second I was startled beyond belief. For a longer while, maybe about a minute, I must have stood still with my mouth agape

  • SEX OR SLEEP OR SILK

    You are the night

  • THE MAN WITH THREE NATIONALITIES

    “This house,” said Mr Ranodhir Palchaudhuri, the owner of the colonnaded 19th century Neel Kuthi at Maheshgunj, “was built by a

  • THE SMOKE ALARM

    Since it was my fourth or fifth visit to the US, I considered myself a pro there. When I reached my cousin's home in Hicksville, Long Island on a Monday morning, she was busy preparing to leave for office.

  • Once in a Blue Moon

    That Man with heavy glasses-

  • Two Poems

    When home is broken

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