#shaheen akhtar

[litstop]

তখন জলপাইরঙা পোশাকের তল থেকে সবে ছাত্ররাজনীতির বাচ্চা ফুটেছে।

শিস, শাহীন আখতার

[thefictionists]

Even before the sun rises, the news arrives like a tempest that Chanda Bir is approaching the palace with Rongomala’s severed head. Still earlier, swarms of black crows flew in from who knows where. Their caw-caw-caws echo across the Raja’s courthouse, the corridors and balconies, the orchard and the banks of the pond. Uproar in every corner of the palace. From the commotion, you wouldn’t think it’s a lower-caste woman’s head that’s coming but a wildfire blazing across Roop Singh’s wetlands, the flames of which will burn to cinders the entire Chowdhury dynasty. In the outer house, Raj Chandra Chowdhury lies unconscious, stoned from a night of drinking bhang. Young and old, everyone is terrified—who will stop him when he wakes and launches into Lord Shiva’s apocalyptic dance with Rongomala’s head in his hands?