18 May is celebrated worldwide as International Museum Day. Thomas Hardy's poem celebrates the British Museum.
On 7 July 1912, Rabindranath Tagore met W.B. Yeats in London. The meeting sparked a friendship and collaboration that produced a great many literary classics,
There was a huge lock hanging from the iron- filigreed door. Through the intricate wall she could see the raised platform for the Lord’s seat.
In that sudden light she saw a yellow and black striped Bakraj snake slowly crossing the path. Suddenly, three army trucks broke through the darkness.
The darkness around the bazaar was thickening. Doiboki felt as if something heavy was sitting on her chest. Had she consented to leave the basket
Feluda woke up feeling disoriented. He looked around only to find that he was lying on a huge bed. He found that he was in
He was born on the 23d of April, 1564.Of good farmer-class parents who could not read, could not write, could not sign their names. At
You were there when that little child fell,/She bruised her leg and cried./ You felt for her, rustled your leaves,/Until her eyes dried.
The night’s a complete washout/ The eyes can’t hold the ocean/Flooding the parched soil/And does its own thing/with the mascara, the eyeliner
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,/And hopes and wishes, from all living things/Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
All of a sudden, two deer came out of the forest - one bold buck and one proud doe, still wearing their ‘winter coats’. Slowly
Shukria rose from the floor next to the wash basin with a slight grunt as her daughter, her partner in running this household of boys
Let us embark on a journey that you and I will have while we go through my scrapbook, which has the fondest memories I have
They say forgetting will render you free,/But that's not the case with you and me./I like to believe that I have known you long,/But truth
The mummy itself, a horrid, black, withered thing, like a charred head on a gnarled bush, was lying half out of the case, with its
A pale yellow light, stirring dust motes/Fragrant, playful, brushes across my face/The air cooler, brighter, rain drop fresh/Cobwebs quivering, released from dark corners
