Bathroom Window

Then one day I discovered the view through small window in my bathroom. It looked on to the apartment building in front but through it I saw a white new building complete with families and house plants and drying cloths in the balcony. I went back to my balcony. The building was still there empty, wall less…

Translation Fiction: Lalsalu (The Red Cloth)

Lalsalu is a novel by Syed Waliullah published in 1948 by Comrade publishers. It is a classic of modern Bengali literature. Waliullah was conferred Bangla Academy Award for this debut novel in 1961. By 1981 the book’s 10th edition was published. Lalsalu, was inspired by a shrine covered with red cloth that he would often pass when he lived in Mymensingh. Waliullah is often considered the pioneer of existential analysis of the characters psyche in the literature of Bangladesh. This is part 1 of a two part translation covering roughly the act 1 of the novel.

The Passerby

(I wrote this for Rochelle Wisoff’s FridayFictioneers as a 100 word story. But the premise and the themes demanded expansion.)
The old man first sees the boy on the front stairs. Later that day he was seen wandering the halls of the old Zamindar Bari by Piku…

Shameless self-promotion

Words in Oddities

This isn’t a story.  This is a shameless self-promotion to a gofundme account.  If you’ve followed what I’ve written, you’ll know my current situation.  I have to prioritize some things in my life.  Priority number one – get my daughter to Disney World.  If you like my stories, donate a dollar, or two, or three, and please, share this, spread it out.  It’s for a good cause.

Thank you, for reading (especially for reading), and for whatever help you can give.


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The Tea-Seller And The Djinn

I wake up to the distant rumble of thunder. It’s already dark outside. I get up and get into the washroom to splash some water in my face. My extended siesta has left me exhausted. After some time I’m outside on the road. Parts of my brain feel like they are still waking up. Need tea, I decide. It’s dusk. A wind howls through the city, trying but failing to cool the heated concretes and asphalts…