by Lekha Dey. Years passed. I was seventeen. It was on the night of the misty moon on the blue beach that the party took place on the last day of school. […]

by Lekha Dey. “Dad!” I tried to call my father but I couldn’t. I couldn’t utter a word.  I tried to speak, to scream but as in a dream or nightmare I […]

by Lekha Dey. We drove along the banks of the river, the road following its course. On the front seat sat my father, who was driving and my mother who was on […]

by Lekha Dey. There was very little time. There would be a knock on the door. Soon. The downstairs wooden door had no bell to ring. “It’s classier to be old-fashioned,” husband […]

by Lekha Dey. I was alone in the house under the moonlight. In the mirror, dying flames of the candles flickered like reflection. White wax melted over the edges of pewter stands, […]

by Lekha Dey. I live alone. In the two-story house under the moonlight. Silver beams, like liquid dreams, flood the balcony, bathe the window sills and wash the bed spreads. They remain […]