“Mahua- The story of a girl whose screams we couldn’t hear” 

A short story on the condition of rural women in our society. 

Please read it at Eunoia 

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It was sent in to us in Bengali, I tried my best to translate it in English. Please, let me know if you liked it. Thankyou. 

I’d be more than happy if you share your writings with us, so that we can publish it in the website with due credits. 😊

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New beginnings 

Hello friends. Thanks for your support and never-ending love, this blog now has 300+ followers. I still remember how elated I was on having 10 followers. We’ve come a long way and I couldn’t be happier.

धन्यवाद. Thankyou.❤️

It’s your encouragement that motivated me to move a little ahead on this path. Please support this page and website and help it grow. Show us the love you always do. 

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Hoping for the best. 


That pit in your heart 

A heart that beats 

But is falling apart 

An icy gap

Like a hole that’s punched 

On a shrivelled piece of paper 

Cannot be ever filled 

It goes deep 

And deeper it gets 

With every drop 

Of tear you shed 

For people who 

Once bones and blood 

But they say

Are now stars

So you try

As the years roll by 

To cover the void 

With twigs and petals 

Of love and joy 

So when you look up 

At the starry sky 

You don’t wish upon 

A falling star

But can smile

To the one 

That smiles back. 



A millions words 

Myriad of thoughts 

Shroud my mind 

All day long

Dead hours of night 

Eyes open wide

Heart skips a beat 

Yearns to speak 

As the mouth 

Is shut and sealed. 


Nameless Faces 

​Staring out of the window 

Of a crowded bus 

In the lap of a woman 

I see a child 

With tiny eyes 

He looks around 

As if for the first time 

With much passion 

And delight 

Hardly does he know 

That time shall pass

By the speed of light 

And biding goodbye 

To mother’s embrace

He’d soon become 

Another nameless face 

In the same crowd. 


Shortcut To Heaven (Storytime)

​My heart skipped a beat everytime I saw another “Accident-Prone Area, Drive Safe” board on the way. Sitting on the very first seat of a city bus, which looked like it was atleast a hundred years old, I imagined what my obituary would look like. I wasn’t sure what it’d say but it had to end with something like “she was too young to leave us.” 

   I’ve always boasted of my fearlessness. If I were in a horror movie, I’d be that brave (read stupid) person who hears voices at 3 am, yells “who’s there?” multiple times, goes out to investigate, gets stabbed in the heart and dies. 

  Left hand on the steering and a cigarette in the right, the bus driver drove this fragile vehicle as if it was a Formula One car, the bus roared and creaked in response. At times he’d leave the steering wheel altogether to light another smoke, take deep drags and then continued doing what he did best- shout cuss words at anyone who dared cross his way. 

 They say one can never be truly happy but to them I say when that death ride came to an end, at that particular moment of my nineteen years old life, I was truly and completely happy. I got down thanking my lucky stars as the driver lit another cigarette.