Indian English authors have outclassed their global counterparts by simply penning the fine fictional/prosaical works. Many of the Indian authors are thought to be leaders in certain genres as their works are definite benchmarks for the aspiring authors. Their works…

By: Debleena Majumdar “You are not my friend” She shouts, voice quivering, Eyes firm, tiny hands on her hip. A friend lost for all of one week. Next week they will play again Angry words forgotten, arms linked, But the…

By: Debleena Majumdar That was a beautiful dream You showed me last night. A field of purple stretching, Beneath a sky of gold. And a mist of silver rain. I wanted to stay awhile, To breathe in that dream. But you…

By: Adreyo Sen I was lost in the endless green fields I had been in before. Then I came upon that brighter green always kissed by the rain. Gypsy women danced a storm in the fury of their sequined skirts….

By: James G. Piatt Spring has arrived, it’s no longer cold, The bright sun melted winter’s icy robe. Rills now flow softly in chasms down the hill, Dappled bullfrogs’ are croaking shrill: The bright sun creates colors to behold, I…

By: James G. Piatt After the spring gales have vanished, after the prevailing winds faded into the lead gray horizon, downy white clouds scudding noiselessly with heavy sodden loads drop their burdensome weight In lush pastures far below: Storm tossed…

By: Maya Unnikrishnan It was one of those afternoons when after a slightly heavy lunch on the regular Friday Biryani, they settled down to watch a movie. As usual he would switch on the English channels and surf. She sat…

By: Raja Jaiswal I was on my way to home. The sky had changed its blue curtain to black one. It was dark enough, cannot be darker. Possibly the stars were twinkling, sparkling in the sky. I could not see…

By: Pijush Kanti Deb Standing of hair up- an uprising form of hair style, contemporary to the modern thoughts and a proof too to the law of compulsion expressing one’s inability to make neither head nor tail of the next…

By: Pijush Kanti Deb The humiliated prayers turn their eyes to other beckoning hand leaving slowly the hand- own but unfortunately unmindful to their own miseries and found always ambidextrous and unabated to refuse the humble prayers to hear and…