Sukra Oraon

In an early morning in late September I made a visit to Kunjnagar haat. The street from Falakata to Kunjnagar was almost deserted. A few peasants in lungi and napkin sat on haunches on the both…

1 Comment

Hossein, the Rhino Fighter

One winter afternoon I went to Galakata haat. It was on the western side of Jaldapara forest. On a clear noon one could eye the treetops of the forest, swaying and singing, from the haat. And…

0 Comments

A Mother of Moiradanga

In a late winter afternoon I sauntered around Moiradanga village. The day was one of the coldest of the year. People were happy as such a chill weather with five or six degrees they found after…

0 Comments

A Poet of Rampur

“Hey poet! Why do you look so sad? Searching seven heavens you bring home a queen at last. Be happy, and enjoy forever life of conjugal bliss.” I commended. The poet eyed me with a queer…

0 Comments

A Burning Pyre

The scene was magnificent. A pyre was burning and the peasants, all drunk, were chanting bolo hari, hari bol; bolo hari, hari bol. Some were crying loud, some were sobbing, some sat terribly silent. It was…

0 Comments

Teja’s Day with a Tiger

Teja’s Day with a Tiger Teja, the great old man, aged seventy five, was sitting on his haunches on the open yard of his tin-hut. He was all bare, except a short napkin stuck to his…

0 Comments

The Owner of a Dhaba

One late summer afternoon I was returning back from the day's rambling around Sarugaon tea garden. I surveyed the long green carpets stretched miles after miles, sometimes wavy like a foamy sea, sometimes like a placid and…

4 Comments

End of content

No more pages to load