Tags Posts tagged with "Fiction"


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By Haroon Rashid Dar “Oh, how I love adventure! And today is such a pleasant day… The greenery of nature, the flower booms, and this scorching heat of July..!” thought Muhammad Asif to himself. He made up his mind and left  for  a  tourist  destination  home  in  his  own  vehicle  all  alone to  enjoy the  fresh  and  cool  air  in  the  silence  of the meadows  and  forests  without  human  disturbance, which was about a hundred   kilometers  away  from  his  home. In the afternoon, he was  driving  smoothly and enjoying  the  thrill of the music  playing in his  car. Soon after,  he  was  driving in the  middle  of  the  meadows and was lost  in his imaginations  of  nature.  He  sighted a beautiful 

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That shriek! How penetrable the siren is! It Pierces  my heart. First shriek! Two shrieks are yet to come -the second will be louder than the first and the third louder still. The  Siren sounds  of textile mill coming one after the  other ring their loudest  with these shrieks   long columns  of smoke  trailing from high chimneys of  these mills the air choke  with  smoke  forming like a dense formless jumble leaving  the sky shrouded in a  dense haze. I am sleeping on the roof top of this fourth floor building; here too the air is  full of smoke, smoke

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By Soumitro Sanyal “Let us go to a secluded place, you know, somewhere where it’s nice and peaceful, with no one around us to stalk or ogle over us; where it’ll be only you and me.” Cooed in Anisha while we were sitting at Barista in the outer circle of Connaught Place, sipping hot cappuccino on a chilly winter afternoon, and watching the endless traffic crawl and zip on the roads. It was a working day, so more traffic and people on the road. “Sweetheart, there is virtually no possible place so secluded where people aren’t there except a room,”

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Written by Akhtar Mohi-ud-Din | Translated from Kashmiri by M Siddiq Beig Nabir Shaala was already well over three score and ten. For the most part of his life, he had darned and continued doing this even then. On the jehlum bank, overlooking the river, he owned as small three storeyed wood planked shack of a house. He invariably sat on the verandah, working, wearing thick glasses fixed in place with twisted yarn, on his nose shrilling out his favourite song: mash bo chhivireethas raati ke pyali hano And sometimes another song: tsininy poshi yangi me dyinthmas tan haa cah

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Cool breezes kissed her cheeks. Hair flicks fell on face. A two lane wide road welcomed. She stepped out of the Metro station. One room windowless dwelling is a mile away. Taking a cycle rickshaw to reach there is her daily travel. Tasleema is like other girls of Delhi who live here for studies. With heart full dreams for future, struggle is inevitable. She was one of the passengers of Rajasthan express, three years ago. Her parents live back home in Rajasthan. Earning his bread from a government job in Power Development Department, Muhammad Ishaaq never forgets to send monthly