http://slow.writerscafe.org/SMukhopadhyay The original writings of author SUGATA M en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776020077 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Love, true and pure, will never find an end. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/3129022/ Story of the lone battle of a lame, disabled soldier against a bunch of terrorists http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/3128885/ VIDA She slowly got up from her seat. The flight was waiting. There were already several announcements on her name. The airline guys wanted her to report at the departure gate right now . It is she who was delaying the taking off of the flight.The mind to board the flight was lost. Kiara couldn&rsqu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/2766834/ My grandmother lived alone in her big house in our village. Nobody visited her in her house except me. I made time to time visit to her after my school. She always fed me well with chocolates, pastries and sweet drinks at her home.My grandmother was not at all in good terms with my father and mother.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/2766832/ SCENT - the Murder mystery from the Gupta kingdomSupratik, Chief of Police and Internal Security at Ujjain, walked rapidly up to the riverside, just as the body was being fished out. The officer supervising the operation turned around and saluted his commander immediately.‘Bring the body out.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/2766830/ May Day,Can it be a hey day! Gulping cult, socialistic BeerWith a boisterous Bolshevik Bear.In my capitalist garden poolSo damn craving and coolMusic hails straight from Latino landIn the tone of calibrated band,Chinese love-curry with bloody Red rice,Cuban girlfriend under phenomenal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/2024460/ Story of a ground-level Mozambican girl who touched the sky with the help of her Amigo but without forgetting her roots. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/2006608/ Thestory begins in a crowded vegetable cum fish and meat market of South Kolkata.Inearly hours of morning the place becomes favorite hunting ground of hundreds ofavid buyers who jump in cut-throat competition for the best quality food-stuffand subsequently dump them in the kitchens for t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1934491/ A long story. You may need good patience to start and finish. First time in my writing career I composed a strongly female-oriented story. The story has the touch of our Bengali culture. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1932336/ My extinct, sparrow-like friendsLacking sort of trends,Seeking alerted answerAmidst Tropic of Cancer,Jingling bellow deep inside Space,Simply gregarious and grace,Piling up perceptions in Equatorial meadowsThrough series of sassy windows,Ragged Bagpiper hailed from the EastEqually vulturous and vipo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1931174/ Two friends were seated face toface across the table where dinner was served. They were eating rather silentlywith cold exchange of one or two occasional words which was quite unusual forthem.After all they were good friends,played together in the same county for long but…….. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1931169/ Hans finally brought home what he had been desiringfor long - a sex doll. He lost interest in any form of conjugal relationshipafter two neck to neck divorces. Visiting prostitutes just for the sake ofmeeting blunt physical needs was never among his choices.So sex doll!The doll cost hi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1928727/ The house was left with weird silence. One-storied bungalowsurrounded by a muddled garden. I was told that my father stayed here.  I used to take momentary halt before the housewhenever passing by to have at least a glimpse of my father. But he was neverseen around.Once I spotted a wo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1908373/ Experiences of life are funny, overwhelming, unprecedented, soul-stirring, sliding.My fellow-passenger in the return flight from Bangkok was a handsome Vietnamese young man of early twenties. Our brief exchange of conversations revealed that he is a communication specialist graduated from Belgium, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1906131/ ‘Can you lend me some money?’‘For your booze?’ I looked straight to Sylvester.‘Not exactly.’ Sylvester offered an instant guilty smile tome. ‘My son’s school fees are pending for last couple of months. He might haveto leave his studies if I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1900908/ Based on some still prevailing tribal rituals in different corners of the globe http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1879931/ ‘Hello dear,’ someone patted my back.I turned around.The thinly built man with a bright smile on his face seemedto be only of my age.‘Familiar?’ He frowned by distorting his face funnily.I was still dumb as I couldn’t make the head or tail of him.&.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1877559/ It was a brief but meaningful meeting.We actually met following a span of thirty years.Fortunately we didn’t fail this time to recognize andappreciate each other’s presence. We often used to do that just after we had partedaway out of emotional outbursts of two young, estranged h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1875412/ When he was boarding the train the young man hanging fromthe door asked him where he would like to go. He didn’t reply and slowly pushedhimself into the compartment within the spread-out, dispersing crowd.The trains don’t remain breathlessly crowded in the earlyafternoons till .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1875335/ 2095 AD.The much-expected divide finally happened. Men and womenstarted living separately. Rapidly declining popularity of heterosexual relationshipover the last few decades was the trigger-point. Moreover the long chronicle ofsocial vices and ailments that included domestic violence, sexu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1864635/ He came back late at night.She was shocked after seeing him hurt with a grisly blackeye and one-sided awfully swollen face.‘What happened? How did you get all these?’ She panicked.‘Cops!’ He replied with lot of difficulties.He was caught by the cops earlier .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1862724/ ‘Sorry, I am bit late. Can I sit here?’The woman donned in black from head to feet carrying a queersmile in her glistening face.‘Of course.’ I replied intimately as if I had been waiting onlyfor her.‘Thank you.’She took the chair right in front.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1860938/ Euthanasia is still not legalized in India. The story based on Euthanasia is written in the background of Mumbai, based on a true incidence that only happened on the other part of the world. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1828320/ Shakespeare wrote ‘The Merchant of Venice’ about fivehundred years ago.Venice, famous for its exotic water routes that cut acrossthe city and attracts tourists from all corners of the world for memorablegondola rides was the key location of Shakespeare’s story. Putiar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1789394/ Part of my forthcoming novel 'Shreds of Silence' http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1785396/ An unusual story of a busy market place of Kolkata http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1783297/ ‘My name is Rakesh Ranbal Mehra.I am a film producer, wantto make a film with you.’Sriram had no idea about this weird looking man. He hadnever met him in any filmy gatherings or award ceremonies before. Looks like acomplete stranger was just dropped from nowhere to produce a f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1782574/ Story of the enlightening street-entertainers http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1782264/ This story is the beginning of my novel 'Shreds of Silence' - a story of Mahabharata. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1781460/ I was saying silent good-bye to my family.It was two in the morning. Everyone sank in slumber. Therewas a pin of silence across our house.My mute mobile beeped with the most-desired message of thenight. ‘We have reached darling, waiting meters away from your house. Pleasecome sha.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1716929/ In the middle of theflight, Kiara woke up to go the washroom. When she returned, she was too lazyto push her way into the middle seat. And with Rishaan readily offering toshift seats, the seating arrangement changed. With 20 minutes still remainingfor the flight to land, a sleep starved Kiar.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1688022/ Noirita read the message once again but was notat all convinced. She wiped her eyes impatiently and concentrated into Arko’sweird lines one more time.It said: My ship was capsizing in the ocean ofyour eyes. My mates were constantly saying ‘abandon the ship’. But I wasst.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1673605/ Standing naked in front of thebody-size mirror and appreciating each and every bit of flesh that theforty-eight year old body carries is her favourite passing time. She loves her body. Probablythat’s the only thing under the sun she loves other than the money.She mothered quite a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1623376/ She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of thewindow. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her bluesilk scarf. ..About an hour back she had stabbed a man to death. The girl was in her mid-twenties, of medium-height, shapely built with a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1604201/ ‘Papa,am I going to die?’Georgetook the small, feeble hand of Saira inside his. He couldn't utter anythinginstantly. He was under the oppression of a losing father.‘Papa,please tell me. Why are you quiet? Am I going to die?’ the eight-year old lass.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1579350/ Women's Force against TB http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1504360/ Story of a girl who had drug-resistant tuberculosis http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1501250/ 'I love you.' 'What do you say?' 'I love you.' 'Sorry, you are late.' 'Why you say that?'  A glowing smile appeared on her face. Those wavy dimples becameprominent. The ocean in the eyes became wild. 'I just pro.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1498287/ Before I sleepI swear every time,It would be a different dayTomorrow of mine. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1498282/ Vacating temporarily the naked nest of mine,To visualize NatureFrom my nude soul. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1498156/ I let lust win last nightTo beat the last bite Of love. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1497697/ Sleeping in the trainIn a stupendous nightWith the melody of the rain. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1497640/ Birds flyMountains meltSun droops,When you sprinkle your loveon my serpentine soul. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1497639/ An unedited, raw story to know the response of the readers. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1474974/ The bewildered thing of mineGets wild to leave me wetIn my coveted dreams http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1414175/ I hate my sensitivity.It's my relativity I adore. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1298354/ Make me blind in your blinkered wilderness ......... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1298352/ Your eyes are killerYour lips pour venom..........I sleep with my destiny. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1298333/ Let's play the game called LIFEIgnore the fall, cherish the rise,Ever you hold the devil’s device?Crave for rat race never ends,Brazen soul hardly bends.   ‘Every dog has his day’-That’s how they make the say,There is nothing.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1296219/ I am living in my loveless soulMy pale blood doesn't ooze any more,I don’t go to hell for sickening boozeMy grave remains covered in stinking gore.The naked body lying scared in the beachTo invite those who prank with prick,I still love to remain lovelessTo assault the heaven’s nicking p.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/SMukhopadhyay/1205973/