Anik blames the alarm on his phone for failing to wake him up at 7 AM despite him snoozing it 3 times. He decided to skip shower since it will take him at least an hour to reach his office in Gulshan from his home in Shegun Bagicha thanks to the morning traffic. He

The hills of Bandarban, The emerald slopes,

Once there lived a girl called Abby Rocket. She was a very good girl and everything she did, she did it with all her heart.

Luna scrutinised the twenty-nine page long script with yearning eyes, waiting to find herself laced amidst the phrases.

Tonight, Mother put her arms around me And she hugged me tight,

“The winter was too chilling. And blank, somehow. In the background, there was no blaring music, and the morning felt like someone had taken the salt out of an almost perfect chotpoti.

Hello, dear old friend. Even after so many years you never fail to marvel me through your surprising change of attire at the transition from day to night. We are no longer strangers, not after the countless sleepless nights we shared, though sometimes I cannot help wishing

I used to feel sad for him. Worried about him for hours and hours when he vanished and wouldn’t return. He went missing for two days once.

She was sitting on her bed, by the window, when she suddenly realised someone was singing. She recognised that song. She turned around and saw her mom folding her favorite green scarf and singing.

We wake up as the sun begins to rise, To a city that once was swarmed with cars,

Disheveled, my hair uncombed,

Malta chaa literally translates to orange tea. But the very essence of it cannot be felt only by savoring it in street corners.

The first time around, I only saw your front façade.

The paper I slept on clung to the corner of my mouth. My mouth felt bitter, as if the protagonist in my story had just been betrayed by the love of his life.

The attempted music floating out of the barbershop was positively ghastly, but I had no choice other than to keep approaching it.

I feel like the sand by the sea Picked up by a little girl.

I looked at my watch. It was five past ten in the afternoon. The spring gust was a little shivering. The sound of wind came along with a sound of crunching leaves.

The oaks stand in silence, They hide a few Victorian houses.

It was a regular Wednesday. I was sitting in an auto-rickshaw, feeling like I was being roasted under the Dhaka sun, waiting for the traffic to get moving.

The crumbling two storey house is flanked by an apartment building on one side. Just a few days ago, the house on the other side met