THE COVETED YELLOW TEA SET

Oh the old teacup handle broke today
Quite accidentally I am sad to say
Because it was the family treasure
Only used in small measure

Oh what a  pleasure it had been
As a child to have gazed at the yellow set
From the glass mirror of the cabinet
Nose squashed against the glass with longing eyes

Eyes wide with dreamy sighs 
Of using the coveted yellow tea set some day
Which didn't come in my parents’ time
Finally gifted to my daughter many years down the line 

Hence, dear friends, before the dust catches it all
Use the beautiful sari which still hangs in the cupboard many years’
Or the red T-shirt which lies untouched
Or soon you’ll  feel shy to wear a colour so bold

Do you hoard waiting for a suitable day?
A dress, a shirt, an event or travel?
Do not tary, dear friend, time is short, 
You may never use that old treasured thing you bought

Or visit that favourite place
Or say those loved words
Time swishes past 
Like sand in an hour glass doesn’t last!


Sushama Kasbekar

My Love Will Not


I can forget my memories but not you
I can lose everything but not my love
I can sell my world but not my heart
I can change the face of time but not dream
I can stop everyone but not you
See the flame of dream where love lives
See the wings of love where you fly
Ask your eyes about the seed of love
Planted in your heart before time
Touch the sky and hear my heartbeat 
Every beat tells the story of your existence 
I am not me for a moment without you
 You are everything in my life.
The seasons may change easily
The rivers may dry
Time can fly from here to there
The  hills may change their possession 
The night may be endless
The sun can not rise
The moon may sleep
But my love will not.

Dedication

 The longing for Oman burns my soul,

 I’m loveless, I’m unhappy – the word happiness without you,

 Even the moon is falling from the sky,

 Besarhad asked me how I was.

 Bearmon – to a bearman world

 fed

 Chamomile of my heart 

 from the window.

 With countless words spoken,

 My last word asks after 

 at the moment.

 He cries to the sky 

 swans-

 The written words of your grandfather are superior.

 And but, I spoke, I drank,

 i burned

 I grew up in the greatest living room.

 The Maghreb is a stranger, a homeless stranger, 

 He asks, searching my heart

 space

 I will walk around the branch

 the streets

 I’m sorry 

 rebellious

 that’s it.

 They lied 

 the nights are quiet,

 I wandered the lost city.

 I thought you were sorry

 i,

 Wings of Blasphemy

 a simple bee.

Hatamova Charos was born in 2009 in Fergana region. Currently, he is studying at the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov organized by PIIMA. His creative works have been published in several international magazines. The artist’s future goal is to become a poetess, to receive the Zulfiya state award and to become a scholar of literature.

Echoes of Ravenswood

Part 1: The Invitation

Ravenswood was a small town surrounded by thick woods. It was a quiet place with a lot of stories about ghosts and mysterious disappearances. Most people didn’t believe these stories, but one legend still scared everyone: the legend of the Blackburn Mansion.

On a cool October evening, four friends—Emily, Jake, Sarah, and David—met at Emily’s house. They had been friends since kindergarten, and now, in their final year of high school, they wanted to have an unforgettable Halloween. They wanted something different, something exciting, something scary.

“Let’s spend the night at Blackburn Mansion,” Jake suggested with a mischievous grin.

The idea made everyone excited but also nervous. The mansion had been empty for decades since the Blackburn family disappeared mysteriously. People said it was haunted, with lights flickering in the windows and strange sounds coming from inside.

“Are you crazy? That place is cursed,” Sarah said, though she looked curious.

“Come on, Sarah, don’t be scared. It’s just a story. We’ll go, check it out, and leave before midnight. It’ll be fun,” Jake encouraged.

After some convincing, they all agreed. They packed flashlights, snacks, and an Ouija board, mostly as a joke. As the sun set, they walked through the forest, the path lit only by the pale light of the full moon.

The mansion stood before them, its once-beautiful face now falling apart and covered in ivy. The iron gates creaked open as they pushed through, and the air grew colder as they walked to the front door. Jake pushed the door open, and they stepped inside.

The inside was dark and dusty, with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and broken furniture everywhere. The air felt heavy, like the walls were holding the memories of old horrors. Even though they tried to be brave, the friends felt a chill run down their spines.

They explored the ground floor, finding only empty rooms and old furniture. Then, they decided to set up their camp in the grand hall. The high ceiling and fancy chandeliers showed how grand the mansion used to be.

“Let’s try the Ouija board,” Emily suggested, her voice shaking a little.

They sat in a circle, placing the board on the floor and each putting a finger on the planchette. The room was silent, except for the occasional creak of the old house.

“Is anyone here?” Jake asked, his voice echoing.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the planchette began to move. They looked at each other, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Who’s doing that?” David asked, his voice nervous.

“It’s not me,” Emily whispered.

The planchette kept moving, spelling out a single word: “LEAVE.”

A sudden gust of wind blew through the hall, putting out their candles and leaving them in darkness. They panicked, fumbling for their flashlights. When they turned them on, they saw with horror that the doors had shut themselves, trapping them inside.

“We need to get out of here,” Sarah said, her voice shaking.

They ran to the door, but it wouldn’t open. It felt like an invisible force was holding it shut. They tried the windows, but they were all sealed tight.

“Let’s stick together and find another way out,” Jake suggested, trying to stay calm.

They moved deeper into the mansion, the air getting colder with each step. The hallways twisted and turned, leading them in circles. They passed by portraits of the Blackburn family, the eyes in the paintings seeming to follow them.

Then, they heard a soft whisper, growing louder. It seemed to come from the walls, sounding evil.

“Did you hear that?” Emily asked, her face pale.

Before anyone could answer, the ground shifted beneath them, and they fell into darkness.

Nahyean Taronno  is a student of grade eight in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

A Brave Boy

One day a boy named Sofiq went to his School. In tiffin time he quarreled with his friends. So, he was distressed. After breaking the school he lonely went to the rail station. Then, he started working beside the train line. Suddenly he noticed that the train line was broken in a place. And that time he the whistled of a train. He could not know what he did. Then, he hit upon a plan. He had worn a red color tea shirt. He put out his tea shirt and then tired it with a stick and trebled it. The driver of the train noticed that and stopped the train. Finally he saved the lives of many people with his witness.

Md. Amir Hamza  is a student of grade seven in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

My village

When the mind wants to see
The green world, I go to my village
When you think about the game you
Remember that green nature 
Means the smell of the soil
The green, the farmer’s dream
The mind in the unconscious race of
There is laughter, as many plants and trees
As I can bear, take this mine one by one.


Md. Easa Hossain (subas) is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Time Of Sunrise

Marking the passage from night to day,
A promise of hope, a new pathway.
The world awakens to the sun’s embrace,
Bathed in the light of its warming grace.

Birds herald the morning with their song,
As nature stirs and stretches along.
The air is fresh, the earth reborn,
In the quiet magic of the sunrise morn.

Horizons blush under the sun’s first kiss,
A moment of peace, pure and bliss.

Don Bormon is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.