Posts by Soumya Chakraborty

Sahina

When Sahina boarded the local train, the commuters stepped aside. It was nine-thirty in the evening. A sudden heavy downpour had delayed all the trains, bottlenecking the suburban railway stations

Blue Branches, Red Leaves

I was born in a world where old, withered flowers that have for years rested within the pages of old books are cherished, and the same world it is, where

Santa

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> “Mum, I want

Children of Heartless Gods (Part 2 of 2)

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> (continued from Part

Children of Heartless Gods (Part 1 of 2)

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> February 2012 Homs,

Victory

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script> <!– taw-responsive –> <ins class=”adsbygoogle”      style=”display:block”      data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″      data-ad-slot=”1428227755“      data-ad-format=”auto”></ins> <script> (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); </script> “Open your palm,”

Unspoken and Intangible

 “Hello,” I said, wondering why she had called me at that hour, given that we generally talk to each other at night.   “What are you doing?” Mum asked.  

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Human Rights

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Offer Letter

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Letter