Originals

The Story -by SleepyArcher

Shadowed Heartbreak by SleepyArcher

Stirring From Words by SleepyArcher  

As Evening Sets by SleepyArcher  

  AUTHOR"S NOTE :    This tale of a neighborhood and the unheard stories of  it's inhabitants is something that came to my mind while observing  a man pulling a vegetable cart announcing his arrival with a sharp sound of ' kakima !'( this is from pre-pandemic era).I thought of a sentence a friend of my mom's said on a phone call "No one cares enough to check on each other  in the para anymore ". And it is true . Para culture had died  with the onslaught of digitization and fast life . The para I paint here is sort of inspired by my own neighborhood. To summarize the feedback given by sa.re and SleepyArcher this story is good enough  to make it on the list of necessary texts for board examinations 💓. Offer still stands if you guys want a reference to context question paper.😋😂 .  Please check the GLOSSARY at the end of the story for the Bengali terms

 

-Krabbit Disclaimer : This work in no shape or manner attempts to glorify problematic behavioral patterns or claims to be an expert in such matters. This is complete fiction and does not intend to hurt or offend anyone. Trigger warning alert! for readers who may not feel uncomfortable with the topic explored in this writing. (Author's note at the end)                                                                                                           

sa.re: I wrote this back in June, 2015 in lettrs. I remember it was a song challenge and I wrote this story. Unfortunately lettrs has taken the decision to take down their website and app. I could save some of my writings so I decided why not upload them here. Hope you like it.

                               She waited in the dark, With Words of Poison tips Ready to lash out, At a moment’s notice. Her defenses were thorny, Weak and lonely She wanted to trust, But her suspicions laid all to dust.                                                      - Krabbit 

    I keep the voices inside of me, screaming of defeat and failure. Words I prefer not to put into the decorated pit of despair. I wish I could be more. Do a little more. Just a tiny bit more-- than what I am.  sa.re

I had words once,  enough of them to fill  my empty spaces, to soothe my aching Loneliness.  It's all dried up now,  spaces remain empty and  I am left speechless  in a hollow room.    sa.re

  The Three Little Brides   -  by Krabbit DISCLAIMER : This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the Netflix movie ‘Bulbbul’ and various sources such as books ,the internet and  in-numerous tales that contribute to the oral culture of storytelling. This story has depictions of Bengali Hindu weddings and in no way claims the accuracy of the rituals portrayed. There is no fixed time period for this story so  creative liberties have been taken with  setting and social norms and practices.