Mundane 3 (A Walk)
This is part of a series of Micro Fiction based on the mundane slices of my daily life here in Bangladesh.
Some silhouettes stand and watch the roaring river of light flowing below…
This is part of a series of Micro Fiction based on the mundane slices of my daily life here in Bangladesh.
Some silhouettes stand and watch the roaring river of light flowing below…
The old man first sees him on the front stairs. Later that day the boy wanders the halls of the Zamindar Bari. At noon the old man eats rice and mashed potato…
This is part of a series of Micro Fiction based on the mundane slice of my daily life here in Bangladesh.
There is a river nearby. I hear a faint Chug Chug sound of a motorboat coming from upstream. It’ll slowly rise and fall as it pass by…
A dream floats in the foot overbridge tonight. Steam rises from a bowl of hot steaming rice…
I sip tea and read the anti-smoking poster on the wall. The mid day sun burns bright on a blue sky…
“Ok.” She looks in my eyes, uncertain. Later that evening she whispers three words in my ear before leaving.
People gather around me; to leave perchance to return. Some I carry away …
They lock the apartment behind them at morning.
Through the window he looks out. A little girl is looking at him from the street. He waves. She runs away…
“It is the cause, not the death, that makes the martyr”- Napoleon Bonaparte.
When I got out on the road the sky was already in the process of hiding behind the veil. The wind hadn’t started yet. A premature twilight was falling. I walked hard and tried not to fall in any open manhole or drain in the gloom. This alley I was in was one of the …