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"I have known music to be her timeless reverberation in a forlorn corner of my soul; just when life was closing down upon me with its pangs of haunting silence."
© Sobhan Pramanik
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LIFE: A SANTA CLAUSE

LIFE: A SANTA CLAUSE
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Thursday, December 25, 2014 |
All my childhood I had known Santa Claus to be the one in a red fury coat at the crossroad, a few blocks from my house, lending gifts to kids and wishing people Merry Christmas. Someone who will readily give things to people to make them happy. I remember how much I loved hopping on my toes to ring the bell at the tail of his ca...

STOLEN KISS - Part 2

STOLEN KISS - Part 2
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Wednesday, December 17, 2014 |
To the lanes of College Street, Calcutta… It was another sticky August night in the city of Calcutta and a half radiating moon loosely hung in the sky. For some reasons, she was having a bad headache that day and was lying in the bed as every other second a throbbing pain, like an electric wave, originated from her temples and sped down her neck to hurt her shoulders. Each of those torturing waves made her writhe on the bed with slices of the sullen...

STOLEN KISS - Part 1

STOLEN KISS - Part 1
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Tuesday, December 16, 2014 |
To the lanes of College Street, Calcutta… A clicking sound from behind tenses him up. He quickly turns around to see her walk through the door; a line of shadow diagonally splits his face. She drops her handbag at the counter and collecting the token, walks into the dim, narrow aisle guarded by high, iron shelves with books spilling from the edge...

STARTLED

STARTLED
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Monday, December 01, 2014 |
On nights following a long day of work, tired and exhausted, as you stretch out on the cot and close your eyes to the darkness around, welcoming a refreshing sleep – ...

DESTINATION

DESTINATION
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Wednesday, September 03, 2014 |
"Maybe I will never be able to reach my destination..." She sighed, unpinning from her lobes a pair of lapis ear stud - the blue stone of which shining rather distinctively against the round silver petals surrounding it...

THE DRAGONFLY

THE DRAGONFLY
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Wednesday, May 21, 2014 |
Like always I was sunk into my old cane chair; the varnish from its handle faded to pale brown and the jute windings on its backrest, thinned; with its floral pattern now appearing to be a mesh of tangled sewing threads. With my head dropped back on the shoulder and a small red cushion crushed to the canes under my weight at my waist, I gaze at the wall ahead of me. Every time I shift to sit up straight with the cushion sliding further down on my back, the timber of the chair creak like a person cracking knuckles. Timid yet distinc...

APPLE TREES

APPLE TREES
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Thursday, April 17, 2014 |
To see you wander in the orchard, swift through the trunks of apple, filling your trug with the ripened fruit; I walk all the way down the hill. Staggering along the twists of the clear stream, hearing its clear waves roll over the pebbles. Right at the neck of the valley, where the sun kisses the mist goodbye, I stand and watch you pick the apple...

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 5

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 5
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Monday, April 14, 2014 |
(Based on incidents post Indira Gandhi’s assassination) Daylight, a faint shade of yellow streamed through the crack of the window to scatter on the floor. The buttermilk sky faintly visible behind the draping of the curtain, gently flutters along the frames. Outside, singing in chorus in the trees were herds of sparrows, their scales camouflaged against the bark. At the far end of the courtyard, on blades of high grass growing wild at the foot of the walls, glistened the morning dew. Along the roads that ran parallel to Mehran’s house, were heard the hoofs of buffaloes and the heavy wheels...

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 4

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 4
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Monday, April 07, 2014 |
(Based on incidents post Indira Gandhi’s assassination) Wiping his face with the back of his palm, he jumped from the branches. It was late noon and the sun, a brighter orange shone low in the western sky where tailed colorful kites made merry to the tune of the breeze. Glints of the orange light caught in the ripples of the lake ahead. ...

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 3

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 3
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Saturday, April 05, 2014 |
(Based on incidents post Indira Gandhi’s assassination) That morning, the first of the winter breeze had started to blow across the village drifting through the canopy of our Jamun in a sullen puff. In its shade lies freshly shed leaves of the tree amid a pattern of light and shadow, as the soft glowing sun peers through the leave...

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 2

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 2
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Monday, March 31, 2014 |
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the po...

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 1

A FATEFUL MEMOIR - Part 1
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Saturday, March 29, 2014 |
(Based on incidents post Indira Gandhi’s assassination) 2nd November 1984 Little Mehran sat frightened behind the thick Sal trunk, the flat top of which still wet with the morning trade. Pieces of flesh lying in puddles of blood and long, flat knives, the edges of which yellow with the fat tissues occupy the surface. The woody brown texture of the trunk slightly dark with the soaking of the goat blood through the crevasses made by the steel chopper, every time it came down on it through the meat....
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