Agantuk's Desk – Explore, Implore, Reverberate
Explore, Implore and Reverberate
recent posts
- How Indigenous Communities Can Change Narrative of Climate Change
- How This Teacher & Her Friends Nurtured the Sewing Skills of Women In Cyclone-Hit Sunderbans Into Livelihoods
- Learning To Draw 3D Illustrations Using Blender
- [Film Review] ‘Medieval’ A Damp Bloodied Version Of ‘Game Of Thrones’ Meets ‘Titanic’
- Into the Gobi Desert – A Land Hard To Miss
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Category: Uncategorized
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495 days and 1 night of love. 495 days and 1 night of solitaire.
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April tells everyone’s tale. April is here to make you belong To those numerous she throng. April is your story to tell April came to bring you out of the shell.
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By the river, we witnessed a rotten carcass, A queer being survived by his purpose. 2 yards down the line there were lovers by the moonshine.
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In a quiet little corner of the house lied a deserted room. Its door stood there like a selfish giant guarding the residents. Inside there were hidden treasures – a worn out bed, an old cracking easy chair by the window, a mantle piece adorned with idols and a rugged bookshelf.
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A common story of a neglected couple retold through colours
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Writers, those wonderful beings who change our lives and transform our societies. While reading a book it must have occurred to you at some point that a specific thing is specially written for you. You wished you were that character in that place. But have you thought, what writers actually think of readers? Do they…
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Literature Festival, the phenomenon instantly reminds of an event dealing with authors and readers. Isn’t it? So when you hear about yet another literature festival happening in the City of Joy, Calcutta – you will probably shrug it off. But Wait! There is a catch. It isn’t just another literature festival. It is a confluence…
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Roshmon came down from the tree. A curious looking crowd has gathered around the tombstone. “It is another famous funeral”, thought Roshmon. She went closer and saw a broken epitaph. The words have started to fade. The letters seem to roam about in an unruly fashion, so much so that, the poem has turned into…
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It was a cold dewy morning. It had drizzled throughout the night. The roads were laden with humus. The buildings wore a grayish dull overcoat. Shops remained shuttered down and the houses deserted. A worn out old grocery shop stands at the downtown corner. Like all days, a bald gentleman sat brooding over the newspaper.…
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I am the crippled fingers clinched as a fist to pray. I am the frailing hand that never betray. I am the voice chanting at a grave. I am the tomorrow that never came. I am the moon of a planet. I am the hymn from your clarinet. I am the night in you slept.…
Agantuk's Desk - Explore, Implore, Reverberate 