Eternal Inferno

- Ishita Mukherjee

A universe unknown

under your hide,

Hunting you down

in eyeless night,

Lanes and lanes, the perverts’ dreams

Scratched walls and silent screams.

Kaleidoscopic beauty beneath your skin

Slipped by them,

They eat up flesh, again,

Gazes bring your soul nausea,

Burning you down to ashes of aporia.

While you are dying inside

Sinking, shame crushes your life,

Lusty whorish minds

Wander unchained alive.

Soul astir, you seek purity

Hopeful to outgrow obscurity,

But, hunt they will again

With carnal claws, the chain, the stain,

A cage anew,

A Chamber for the Jew.

Still, you the only one to blame?

Sorrows of your life, an unending game?

Without beginning and with no end?

Will the earth burn in eternal flame?

Her Birthday

- Pabitra Panda

I am cursed. My family got suspicious seeing my one blue and another black eye first time in the hospital. Their suspicion turned into surety as their eyes fell on my genital. The disgusted faces coloured into fear when my mother became cold few minutes after my birth.

“She ate her own mother!” They accused and fled leaving me alone. They believed I killed my father too from my mother’s womb. That belief was enough for them to name me a witch even before I was born.

Nurse aunt often says, “my child, don’t be so hard on yourself. Did I die too? It’s been thirteen years since you are here with me.” I knew she was lying. I killed her. I killed him too.

What is a birthday? The day we are born? No. For me this day was the Death Day of the person who gave me life. I murdered her. Oh God! Why won’t I end this cursed existence? Why she had to go? Why?

My perspective on self changed that day. It was the fourteenth death anniversary of my mother. From morning tears were coiling inside my throat. Even after aunt’s lingering hug, which I often receive when I’m sad, my tears did not cross the threshold of the eyelid.

In the afternoon I went to the lone valley where my only companion was a big neem tree. I collapsed under it. The sun was sinking across the horizon slowly. Down the valley on the wide field some children were busy jumping, playing, bathed in soft orange sunlight. I was too heavy to jump so I stilled on the green velvet grass. My head was sandwiched between my knees and my eyes stuck to the ground. They refused to hold my tears that now burst out. The pain screamed out of me, “it’s not... it’s not my birthday. I killed her.... Maa I’m sorry. Please come back. Are you listening! Please.”

I could still hear the joyful laughter of the children playing. I don’t deserve that laugh. How could a murderer...

“She is still alive.” A soft sound came flowing.

“Huh! What!” I followed the voice.

A boy around my age seemed sailing on the grass on the other side of that same neem tree. His palms were under his head and moist eyes brimming with the sky.

He continued, “My mother died giving birth to me. But father used to say before the bus accident, that mother has become a star and sees me everyday with her stellar mates. Shines brighter when I’m happy and starts dying when I’m sad. I guess your mother’s light is still there. Try to look up and you’ll find her. It’s up to you now! You kill her second time or make her shine bright again.”

I gaped, pulled my head up and rolled my eyes to the sky. Is she really watching me?

The boy plucked a tiny grass flower and held it towards me. “Here! HAPPY BIRTHDAY beautiful eyes!”

For the first time the breeze slid through the grass touched my ears and whispered, “Happy birthday.”

The Red Clock

- Aritra Ghosal

"Lavanya, where did you keep my denim trouser?" yelled Jayesh with his "Mein Kampfed" chauvinism.

No reply. "Lavanya! can't you hear me? I said where's my trouser?" Huh, there's nothing but silence. Tik - tik - tik - tik - tik - tik. "Bloody bitch! why the f**k aren't you responding?" Out of rage, the hot-blooded man with his cold heartedness grabbed his belt that had a carving of Memento Mori and vehemently rushed down the stairs to the kitchen only to see that there's n o t h i n g. All the utensils went out of his sight. There was nothing left, other than an empty bottle of milk. He rushed out of the kitchen and what he saw was n o t h i n g. All the precious and worthless things of his house went out of sight. He rushed to the bedroom and saw there's no bed, no dressing table, no Lavanya but just a big N O T H I N G. The "Mein Kampfed" chauvinist within Jayesh started to pale and for the first time in the last ten years, he feared. Knowing not what to do, he sought his phone which wasn't there. From past till present one thing remained unnoticed from his sight. It was a red red clock on the wall, passionately ticking on its rhythm and grinning at its owner who had lost all his senses by that time.

List of Contributors

Section i: Creative Space

1. Anindita Karmakar: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

2. Anwesha Chakraborty: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

3. Aritra Ghosal: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

4. Baishali Roy: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

5. Ishita Mukherjee: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

6. Monisha Singha: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

7. Pabitra Panda: a former student of the Department of English, Bankura University.

8. Prerana Acharjee: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

9. Puja Rana: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

10. Ritika Banerjee: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

11. Riya Patra: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

12. Saswati Mallick: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

13. Sneha Das: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

14. Subham Lohar: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

Section ii: Art (Various)

1. Amimon Islam: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

2. Anwesha Chakraborty: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

3. Bipasha De: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

4. Manisha Nandi: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

5. Munmun Yeasmin: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

6. Pallabi Mondal: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

7. Prerana Acharjee: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

8. Rimpa Gorh: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

9. Shilpa Laha: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

Section iii: Mobile Photography

1. Manisha Khan: a student of Second Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

2. Rimpa Gorh: a student of Fourth Semester of the Department of English, Bankura University.

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