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Kanchan Bhattacharjee

‘I don’t have any privacy here. Nothing I can say ‘my own’. Always I’ve to seek permission to your family members for everything. Why? Don’t I suppose to have any liberty?’ Kritee was arranging their dresses in the wardrobe as speedily as she was speaking. Rupayan was not a kilometer away from her. He was going through the newspaper lying on the bed.

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Shinjini Bhattacharjee

Another normal morning in Kolkata. People were heading to offices, children rushed to their schools. No one remembered the news that came just a day back…not even a day about 14 hours back. Such news were nowadays common in all over the country. Two days back, 14th May, a girl, Ruhani Sinha, became a victim like many more. At the mere age of 15, she became a rape victim.

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Dead Body (LASH)


( Taken from his collection “RATH KUTHARER GANN” and translated by the poet himself )

A dead body hanging on a street pole
Hundreds gathered and murmured and sought

Whose dead body is this?

Declared the doctor
“It could be case of murder or suicide “

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Souparno Banerjee

The traffic was terrible,
As I went to the hospital.
To see Janice; an old friend.

As I sat in the car, my palms on my forehead,
Thinking about the day,
A man walked past by,
An old man, in his sixties perhaps,
Too old to cross the way, bent like a tree.

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By Souparno Banerjee

The dormitory clearly proved to be considerably empty .The feelings got worst at night times. Still, a couple of waiting nights more before they were back. The dorm, voraciously filled on the regular routine days with the constant thick humidity inside even on winter days (lord knows why) was all filled up with empty beds and stretched blankets which hadn’t been wrinkled for the past six nights.


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