A short story set in Birmingham’s Bangladeshi Community. Written by Mujibur Rahman Chapter 1 – Night Shifts And Nightmares The bus juddered as it rolled past the halal chicken shop on Stratford Road, its windows smeared with rain and greasy fingerprints. Outside, neon signs bled into each other: “24hr Off Licence”, “Desi Grill”, “Money Transfer … Read more
A short story set in East London’s Bangladeshi Community Written by Mujibur Rahman Chapter 1 – The Last Night in Whitechapel The machines are the only ones who care whether he lives or dies.They blink and beep like small, impatient gods gathered at his bedside, counting what is left of his heartbeats. Rahim lies still … Read more
On the night the Thames spoke Bengali, no one believed the first man who heard it. He was a minicab driver from Stepney Green, halfway through a twelve-hour shift, the kind of night where the city felt like wet cloth draped over tired bones. His name was Jalal, but the controller at the base called … Read more
In the early mornings, before Brick Lane remembered who it was supposed to be, Abdul Malek walked the street as if it were a long, slow river and he was the last fisherman who still knew its secret currents. The shutters on the sari shops were half-asleep. The curry-house signs blinked like tired eyelids. Only … Read more
The summer the rain disappeared from Sylhet, nobody noticed at first. It was June, and the skies behaved oddly—more white than grey, more still than storming. The clouds hung like cloth drying on a line, heavy but unmoving, as if waiting for someone to tap them on the shoulder and remind them of their duty. … Read more