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Sobhan Pramanik
SOAR. But as a bird not as a kite.
SOAR. But as a bird not as a kite.

Sobhan's posts

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Traitor Tree
Traitor Tree: A Short Story There is a Gulmohar growing at the fence. Its slender brown trunk though arising from the soft, grassy earth of my compound, has its crimson canopy, like a cloud stranded at dusk, floating low beyond on the other side. While it w...

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Gautam Gambhir: An Underrated Prodigy
No, we do not wish to see that face— the sadness in those handsome eyes and the evergreen glee drained from his smile, as SRK stands upfront at the Chinnaswamy balcony in a sleek black tee-shirt, clapping a gentleman’s consolation clap for all the hard work...

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The History of Our Being
This motionless Agra sky like a chalky dust hat, hangs from the finial of Taj. Its enormous yellowing dome roofs the mausoleum like Time’s blessing palm frozen over History’s head; housing deep under in sacred stone chambers, the ivory remnants of star cros...

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Forest Fire | Day 11 | #NaPoWriMo
Forest Fire Some loves arrive as quietly as mornings in a forest. Jets of daylight burst through the foliage and trickle down branches, gulping along their way the minty night from cold leaf-tips. It then sips into the ferny bed, caressing our fallen leaves...

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Absolved in Jhelum | Day 10 | #NaPoWriMo
It had been a year my eyes last met your wounded glee in the windy murmur of thawing snows. This April sun wilting the plains, there tints the white rivulets of Jhelum in gold. As they sigh down valleys and jingle past forests, like the ankled feet of a gli...

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LoC | Day 09 | #NaPoWriMo
Betwixt my soul's dire yearning and a mind that cannot let go, you preside like the bewitching Kashmir. This savage battle of possession though depleting my existence, it is at the line of conscience that I contine to bleed for you. ©  Sobhan

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Pacific of Desire | Day 08 | #NaPoWriMo
With a wink, you let the robe slip from your shoulders. And I gape at a sparkling bead of water, furrowing down your seashore back. On me you slowly bend, inching forward on toes. Your oval dunes, moist in their silk cups, hang in my face. I let my hand ins...

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শুভ নববর্ষ | Day 07 | #NaPoWriMo
The new year sevai simmers on the flame. Sweet aroma of milk thickening in the pan, juiced with raisins and nuts, overhangs the house. A singing procession of men and women drift through the cypress shadows. In their chorus rings Tagore's songs, welcoming B...

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Falling Skies | Day 06 | #NaPoWriMo
To my new lodging, I have finally moved. And oozing from the mauve colored walls is a dank odour of drying paint. Wafting invisibly, like heat from asphalt on blazing summer days. Its rancid stench nooses my breath, and stirs my guts. So unlike the easy air...

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To Mothers | Day 05 | #NaPoWriMo
This era of readymade woollens easily available in myriads of varieties, like friendship on the internet one click away, had put our mother's needles out of use. Still whenever a button breaks from the plackets of my new era shirts, it is to my mother that ...
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