Arunava Sinha's Blog

Ashamanja babu fulfilled a long cherished dream when he went to a friend’s house in Hashimara for a holiday. He lived in a one-and-a-half room flat on Mohinimohan Road in Bhabanipur, and worked in the registry department of the Lajpat Rai post-office. Since his workplace was a seven-minute walk from home, he didn’t have to […]

It wasn’t just Englishmen, Mr Barwell told me stories about foreigners from other lands too who lived in Calcutta. Especially about Armenians, some of whom would visit our chambers as clients. Even after all these years I remember one particularly strange name—John Arathoon Bulbulian. At one time I was tempted to write a semi-history semi-fiction […]

Although the conclusions of the extraordinary experiments conducted by Bhanu-da’s Dhon-kaka are not yet ready to be published, in consideration of the colossal mistake it would be to deprive the masses of such valuable findings, I am revealing, if not in meticulous detail, certainly to a large extent, all that happened. Needless to add, all […]

A sense of doom hung over the Chakraborty home in Belgachia. Most of the trees around seemed to have sensed the danger signals and lapsed into silence;… Read more "Chapter 2: A Ballad of Remittent Fever, by Ashok Kumar Mukhopadhyay"

Shaking the silence of the night, the military patrol car completes a circuit around Victoria Park. A curfew as well as Section 144 has been clamped on… Read more "Aadaab: Samaresh Basu"

Memories Still those age-old memories linger in my headIn youth I visited the Botanical Garden often Flowers from various countries were collected thereAnd yet fate never never… Read more "Eight poems: Binoy Majumdar"

Amalkanti was my friend,We went to school together.He’d be late to class every day, couldn’t do his lessonsWhen told to decline verbsHe’d gaze at the window with… Read more "Amalkanti: Nirendranath Chakraborty"

After a million years of living together It will be decided whether you’re mine. Let all that be for now. Wild plums have ripened in the Mikir… Read more "Let All That Be For Now: Manindra Gupta"

Ashutosh-babu made his blunder as he was rushing to get on the tram at Ballygunge Phanri. Missing his footing, he went down in a heap. Evening crowds,… Read more "Another: Tanmoy Mukherjee"

Singapore, 1920: Curtain Call Priyanath was slowly sinking into the quicksand. The deep yellow mass of sand had the tight consistency of mud. The dense, impenetrable, yellow sludge closed in on him, entering his nostrils, his mouth. Priyanath was choking. Suddenly the deep yellow began to change colour in some places to orange. An unusual […]