This is my second collection of short stories ...still in the works! Golpo, in my native Bengali, means "story". My roots have spanned Bengal, India, America ... the world! Golpo has a few more of my short stories with a twist!
Go on! Read some extracts from Golpo ...
We went to the Safeway store across the road to pick up some groceries, quiet for a while, not knowing what to say. Your friend could be on her way to a split with her spouse, but one must be pragmatic and get ones groceries when one is near a Safeway.
The whiteness of the walls closed in on her like an MTV music video in slow motion. Her emotions warped with every step she took toward the brown door at the end. Halfway down the hall, she was clear of anger and bitterness. A throbbing took control of her chest, and it tightened.
The puffy balls of cotton, glinting in the bright sunlight beam right onto my face as I peer out. They don't betray my thudding heart when the plane shudders. What was that? I can see the wing fall away and the plane skidding out of the sky into the cloudy carpet below.
Fried green tomatoes with creole-style shrimp on top. Amit had seen the movie, but this was the first time that he was tasting the stuff. That was a great start, with two of the three beautiful women close. They were friendly and intelligent.
He had held her tightly, as the tears streamed down her face, right there on the Las Vegas strip, with the Eiffel Tower looking down on them. He'd held her tightly, holding her face to his, her tears burning into his emptiness. That was the last time he'd held her, but she'd already been lost to the world.