Author: Sayantan

They Drink at Night

The silence was eerie. A regular droning of cicadas had a near hypnotic effect. The landscape was flooded with the quicksilver light of the full moon. (Reads: 4,006)

Who Goes There? – Poem on Remembrance

Poem on Remembrance: He used to sit at the threshold of his ramshackle hut, Knees drawn up to the level of his chin. Ancient was he. People said that he was as old as the old banyan tree. (Reads: 99)