Whistle of the train lingered long enough to disturb the calm in the city. After being away for so many years, I felt like a stranger returning to my hometown. It was an early morning in January. I wrapped a scarf around my neck, headed out of the station and walked towards my home. In my childhood the city awoke by the dawn chorus of the singing sparrows and squawking of crows, but now buses and rickshaws hushed the sounds of nature. The early morning light drowned out the dim lights from the street lamps. …

My literary life is like a wild tree that grows in the desert and depends on the rain. It has to face the heat of the sunlight and the harsh winds. If it grows up, it remains untrimmed and unappreciated. But if it survives, its fragrance spreads in the desert, and its shadow saves the life of the traveler. I survived, in spite of all the bitter ‘weathers’ and ‘storms’, and continued my journey.

“Deleir Khan has bought a new mare and a Bengali woman.” This news murmured through the square where villagers gathered to wag their tongues. People jostled and bustled, busier than on the holiest of holidays. Gossip was the only entertainment in my remote village. The favorite subjects were horses, dogs, and women. The latest juicy topic stirred their bored souls to life.

On my way home from school, I heard them chortling. Men spoke at the public places, and women addressed passersby from the doorways.

“Have you seen her? …

In my home I have three windows, each named according to the time of day when they illuminate my life: Sunrise, Sunset and Twilight. Sunset spreads transparency over most of the wall, filling the room with an endless palette of colors, until the sun dips below the edge of my world, gone for another day. When the light of Sunset fades to dusk, I close the shades and turn away, unable to face it for another moment. When I turn to the smaller Twilight, I see a more subtle opening above; stars and the moon fill my world. I peer…

In this first newsletter, We, I and Susan Foster, are excited to share that the YouTube channel of My Selection is live and active. We have created this channel to share the videos of our stories.

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Khalil Jibran had the magic of painting images and stirring emotions in the heart. His words heal the soul and gives hopes to downtrodden. He makes you first feel and then think. Unspeakable beauty speaks in the parables and lyrics of this great writer. Let me say that he has a pile of paradoxes: “When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”

The Prophet is in fact an amazing symphony of life. It touches all that matter in our life: love, society, jealousy, injustice, justice, death, men…

Is the death only a biological end? Is it only the disorder of the cells? Will we appear in another form? Is there something more afterlife? These are the basic questions in our mind since childhood. Initially, we ponder on it, but as we start swimming in the sea of life, we close our ears to these questions. But these questions keep shouting. Not finding the answers, we hide ourselves behind the walls of religion. Rumi has answered these questions in his artistic style. I love this poem because of its relevance. Rumi said: “This place is a dream. Only…

Dear Followers and Writers,

Susan Foster and I are thankful to all of you for your love for our publication. You all are book-lovers and bringing great books into our lives. We both are trying to give maximum time to our publication and would love to get your suggestions to make it the best platform for the readers. I hope you help us in seeking innovative and exciting ways to present our publication.

Regarding the growth of our publication, we are glad to share that it is going very well. We have 200+ followers and writers from the globe, and…